Only Fools Rush In
by GildaMulberry
Summary: Set after Series 2, Episode 8 (AU) Richard meets someone important, and Camille gets to know her boss from a rather different side…
1. Stuck in a Rut

Chapter 1 – Stuck in a Rut

The first drops of rain began to fall as Richard reached the final step on the staircase of Honoré Police Station. Without a warning, a gust of wind came from behind and literally blew him inside. A little peeved, he closed the door behind himself, strode to his desk with measured steps and put down his briefcase. His movements were deft, performed with calculated precision, his attire was prim and proper, and his slightly ruffled hair was the only sign of disarray in his appearance. He appeared to be calm and composed… and nobody would have guessed that he had been deep in thought during his walk to the station.

It was Tuesday, and he had just enjoyed a long quiet weekend at home – by rota, it had been his day off yesterday, and it had been good to have an extra day to recover from the turmoil of the last week. The team had been busy investigating several traces in a murder case that had recently happened, and on Friday – just in time for the weekend – they had been able to wrap it up and solve it. With much satisfaction, Richard had stayed late after the denouément so he could finish writing the report and e-mail it to the Commissioner, then he had shut down the station and walked home where he had spent the following three days relaxing, sleeping, reading and getting some rest. Of course, he had also done some chores and grocery shopping, but he had definitely taken it easy…

Since his return from the UK a little over a month ago – he had escorted a suspect and then spent a week visiting his parents and sorting out a few things like seeing his tenant and prolonging the lease for the house for yet another year, having appointments with HR and doing fun things (he had finally had the chance to visit some museums that had opened during his assignment in the Caribbean!) – he had decided that he'd stop slogging his guts out on this godforsaken island. Instead, he wanted to have some fun for a change.

The thing was that he didn't quite know how exactly to have fun here. 'Having fun' was generally a bit of an alien concept to him, anyway, and he still felt like a stranger on Saint Marie much of the time. At least, he knew that going out wasn't his kind of fun, but he had his precision optical instrument, so he had done more stargazing lately, and he had generally loosened up a bit more around his shack. It was perhaps not what others would have classified as 'having fun', but for his standards, it was an almost revolutionary act.

His mother had begged him to see reason and promise her to wear more comfortable clothes, at least around home. She had educated herself about the Caribbean climate and realised that Richard would kill himself if he continued to follow his usual high sartorial standards day in, day out.

A dark woollen suit might be the right thing to wear in London, and of course, Richard had to be dressed appropriately at work, and his mother understood this. But couldn't he relax a little at home at least and wear something lighter there? He shouldn't live his life in either a suit or his pyjamas, his mother had insisted on that…

Richard cringed when he thought of the desperate undertone in his mother's voice when she had pleaded with him to take better care of himself and stop being so stubborn. What on earth she could have meant with that second half of her plea, he didn't know, but this conversation had made him extremely uncomfortable, and in order for her to let him off the hook, he had promised her to get some more lightweight clothes for the time he was off duty.

He hadn't really planned to follow through, but then his suitcase had got lost again on the flight to Saint Marie, and he had been stuck with one suit and two shirts – he couldn't possibly wear the same shirts constantly until his luggage showed up again, so he had actually been forced to get some new pieces for his wardrobe, and while he'd been at it and bought three new dress shirts along with a more lightweight dark grey suit (no wool this time!), he had also got two new pairs of light chinos, three short-sleeved casual shirts and three polo shirts. He had sent pictures to his mother, hoping that she'd be silenced then – and that had indeed worked… well, she hadn't been silenced altogether, but at least she hadn't continued to pester him with this particular topic.

For his outside errands, he still wore his suits. The chinos were only worn at home, along with the polos and the short-sleeved shirts, and he was quite anxious not to let his team see his more relaxed look – although he didn't quite know why. Maybe, he just didn't want to admit that he had finally given in? That surely played a part in his secrecy. To be on the safe side, he always waited until after dinner before he got changed into his more comfortable clothes – usually, he was safe from surprise visits at that time… Somehow, he felt they should rather see him as a representative of his function as Chief of the Police – not as a real person. He knew this was warped thinking, but he couldn't help it, that was the way he was wired.

Although… it had been strangely pleasant, almost validating, to see Camille's appreciative gaze when he had showed up in his new lightweight suit and a new dress shirt… Fidel had made a casual remark about his outfit looking a lot more comfortable than the woollen suit, and Dwayne had said that he hoped his suitcase would never show up any more so he'd have to buy more of these lightweight suits that looked so much better on him than anything he had ever worn for work.

He still hadn't quite managed to figure out how exactly his team felt about his return. Before he had left, Camille had 'accused' him of wanting to stay in the UK, and much to his surprise, she had sounded subdued when she had come out with the thought. Fidel and Dwayne had seemed a bit more optimistic, although Richard had known that they wouldn't have wagered on him coming back… And truth be told, he had indeed toyed with the idea of trying to put an end to this assignment – he just wasn't cut out for life in the Caribbean climate.

Still… when he had been asked by HR if he wanted to stay on Saint Marie and prolong the assignment for an indefinite time, he had decided to accept the offer. He might not always be comfortable on Saint Marie, but at least people left him in peace, and he wasn't ridiculed by so-called 'peers'… with a shudder, he had remembered Doug Anderson and his cronies who had made his life so difficult in Croydon.

On the way back to Saint Marie, it had struck him that he had just signed his own death warrant… at least from a professional point of view, he was pretty much dead now.

But then again… strangely enough, he had never been happier - professionally. Of course, he knew that Saint Marie was a bit of a dead end, and he'd never climb the ladder on this island – there just weren't any perspectives here. However, there was a downside to everything… even to 'climbing the ladder': the higher you climbed, the more you moved away from real police work, from 'puzzle solving', as he called it. You had to get involved with 'politics', schemes and annoying social gatherings – it was bad enough in his current position, but he could live with it as long as it didn't get worse than this.

And his team here was devoted to the job… well, maybe not constantly, but overall, everyone was motivated and keen on solving the cases, and he couldn't possibly have wished for more commitment – they all put in overtime when it was necessary… Even Dwayne who wasn't the world's most motivated police officer did what he could – and his connections often had turned out helpful. Fidel was a gem – he was diligent, conscientious and thorough – and then, of course, there was Camille… resourceful and intuitive. She compensated for his own shortcomings – Richard was very aware of how abrupt he came across and that people sometimes felt affronted by his direct approach. It had taken him a while to understand that – for years and years, he had wondered why on earth potential suspects or witnesses seemed to clam up or feel offended when he was investigating a case – he was only doing his job, after all, and it didn't help to be sentimental when someone had been killed or got mugged.

But Camille's way of handling people had shown him that sympathy and compassion could indeed make a difference, and people opened up more easily when she was around. In spite of this insight, Richard found it hard – if not impossible - to convey these qualities, so he had learnt to rely on Camille's abilities to a certain extent and focused on his own strengths. That certainly had made his work a lot easier, and her support had contributed a great deal to the team's success. She also was an important factor for the team dynamics – Richard knew instinticively that it would be a lot harder for him to work with Dwayne and Fidel if Camille wasn't there…

His team's behaviour upon his departure had encouraged him to think that they wouldn't mind him coming back... and indeed, they had thrown a little welcome get-together when he had returned from London. Sadly, he had been too tired to fully acknowledge their efforts - all he had been able to think about had been the loss of his luggage and his own tiredness. During his stay in London, he had _almost_ missed the warm climate and the sunshine in the Caribbean, but as soon as he had been back, the muggy heat and humidity had started to bug him again, so when he had entered Catherine's bar he had gone off in a rant rightaway again. Dwayne and Fidel had laughed, Catherine and the Commissioner had exchanged a knowing glance, and a smiling Camille had said 'Good to have you back again, sir..."

That had taken all the wind out of his sails... he had stopped mid-sentence, Catherine had pulled up a chair for him, and before he had known how it had happened, he had sat there with his team, a drink in his hand, dumbfounded at how it felt like he had never been gone...

The rest of the day had disappeared in a bit of a blur. Catherine had supplied a cooler full of food so he wouldn't have to return to an empty fridge, and Camille had driven him home... all he remembered of the remainder of the evening was that he had somehow gone through his bedtime routine, closely watched by 'his' lizard Harry, and fallen into bed at some point. They had all left him in peace over the weekend, so he had been able to acclimatise again, and on the following Monday, it had been business as usual.

Nobody had ever mentioned or asked anything about his stay in London, except for very general remarks about the weather and polite questions about the visit with his parents - and so - although he _had_ felt welcome when he had returned - he had no idea if they had merely looked for a reason to 'party' a little, or if they had been seriously glad to see him again. And although he had thought that Camille had looked at him a little differently ever since and given him funny sideways glances when she thought he wasn't looking her way, he hadn't really found out anything about her real feelings.

But why would she care, after all? That hug and kiss on the cheek when he had left... most likely that was just her usual code of behaviour when she said goodbye to someone...

It bothered him that it seemed to be so important to him. He couldn't figure out why he wanted to know. They'd have to work together, anyway, so why did he feel a little let down by her non-committal stance?

Oh well... Whatever. Maybe he'd never find out.

As per usual, his face didn't show any of the thoughts and feelings he was preoccupied with when he put down his briefcase and said matter-of-factly "Good morning, team. Anything important on the agenda today?"

Camille smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry – no. Just another run-of-the-mill day, I suppose, unless something really exciting happens…"

They were going through a bit of a dull phase at the moment, so her statement made sense. He wished it was different. He felt a bit stuck – he had thought everything would move forward now that the decision was made and he'd stay on Saint Marie… what exactly he wanted to move forward, he didn't know, though. But the lack of action at work gave him too much time to think about things he didn't want to think about – like friendship, memories of his childhood and what he wanted to do with his life – so he would have appreciated a really complicated case that would help to distract him.

Camille began updating him on what had happened the day before, and after a few minutes he was fully informed on the recent goings-on. She also pointed out that she had sent him an e-mail regarding a couple of files he had asked her to check, and Richard thanked her, opening his e-mail client and reading his messages.

He didn't notice Dwayne's nervous fidgeting, and it also completely escaped his attention that Fidel and Camille were exchanging apprehensive glances. Nobody said a word.

As Richard kept focusing on his e-mails, Fidel, Camille and Dwayne slowly returned to their work, too, and it was entirely silent in the station for a few minutes. Richard was oblivious to what was going on around him, and so he didn't register that his team members were keeping tabs on him.

Their striking quietness was so unusual, though, that it finally caught Richard's attention, and he was about to make a remark about it when he heard a noise from the cells. It sounded like a whimper.

He looked up, inquiringly, and all of a sudden, everyone else began to do something - as if they wanted to distract him. Camille made a rash movement with her wheelie chair, Dwayne cleared his throat, and Fidel rustled with his papers.

For a moment, Richard thought he had been mistaken.

But then he heard it again... a faint wheezing noise, getting louder and turning into a muffled yelping.

Determinedly, he got up – ignoring Dwayne's desperate attempts to distract him- walked around his desk and entered the doorway to the cells…


	2. A Momentous Encounter

Chapter 2

A Momentous Encounter

As Richard approached the doorway, the yelping got louder. The team had got up, too – to observe his reaction, as he knew only too well. He braced himself for an unpleasant surprise as he entered the small corridor to the cells.

In the cell that had accommodated the infamous goat many moons ago when Richard had first arrived on Saint Marie there was a commotion. A shorthaired, yet rather furry little creature jumped up and down, still yelping. Richard raised his eyebrows, took the keys off the hook on the wall and unlocked the cell. His team watched him in a daze as he walked in – it was like they were frozen to the place, cast under a spell.

The yelping turned into barking, and Richard frowned now, obviously seriously dismayed. Camille, Fidel and Dwayne exchanged uneasy glances. Suddenly, Richard's voice boomed out – a stern 'Sit!' fell from his lips.

Stunned, the little dog – because that was what the creature obviously was – shut up and sat, as demanded.

Richard turned around, so he didn't notice that the dog looked up in awe and shyly began to wag its short tail in an attempt to please the owner of this strong, authoritative voice.

"What is _that_?" he demanded, his voice still stern and slightly disdainful. Never in his life had he seen a dog like this before. It was fairly small, though not _tiny_ like the 'fashionable' dogs, a little shabby, and an unspeakable mix of various races, as it seemed. His fur was well-groomed, though, and he looked healthy (maybe a little _too_ well-fed upon closer reflection), plus he wore a collar, so he clearly wasn't a stray.

Camille observed the scenario with some concern. She noticed the look of what appeared to be hardly veiled contempt in Richard's eyes and made ready to come forward and defend this little creature when Dwayne finally found his voice again and said in despair "Chief, I'm sorry… this is my – er – lady friend's little dog. Prissy left him at my place on Sunday night because she… she had to go to Martinique for a while to look after her sister, and she couldn't take him with her. She hasn't had him for very long yet, got him from the shelter, you know, and she said she has nobody who could look after him. Claimed he'd be totally easy to take care of, he'd only get a bit nervous if he was left alone… Well, nervous he gets, that's the truth! He made such a racket at my house yesterday – barked like the devil was after him… my neighbours called me so I brought him here in the afternoon. Camille… Camille said it was all right as long as he… as long as he wouldn't make a ruckus. But he was entirely happy here, so I thought… I thought he might stay here today, too… so he won't upset the neighbours with his barking…"

As if he wanted to prove his abilities to raise Cain, the little dog suddenly launched into a yowling that could have woken the dead.

Trying to prevail against the noise, Dwayne added loudly "His name is Elvis, by the way…"

That was too much for Richard. His head sank, and he covered his eyes with his hand. Camille was ready to jump in and say something to make him understand that this was just a little creature in despair and that he had no right to look down on him when he lifted his head again and she saw how his lips were twitching in an attempt to suppress his amusement.

Before anybody could say anything, Elvis stopped yowling, gave a startled cough, and a little puddle formed around him on the cell floor.

Fidel turned away to hide his snigger, but Camille couldn't help it – she burst out laughing while Dwayne stood there like the proverbial stiff board, not sure what to do.

Richard said deadpan "Well, I can certainly see where his name comes from. He's got quite the voice… and lots of other – um – talents to show off, too, as it seems…"

Camille was still laughing, tears were streaming down her face now, and she turned to Fidel who was openly laughing now, too, and held on to her, trying to regain his composure, but failing miserably.

Richard said sarcastically "Well, thanks for the show, Elvis – you've got incredibly low standards when it comes to entertainment, I'd say… but it seems to suit the masses…"

Then, glancing over his shoulder in Dwayne's direction, he added "Would _someone_ care to clean this up, and then we'll see what we can do about our – er – guest here…"

Directing his gaze at the mess in front of him again, he gave Elvis another stern look. The little dog scuttled up to him and made an attempt at snuggling up to Richard's legs, but Richard moved back hastily and declared "No, no – we're not that intimate yet, you little gangster. Get out of here so Dwayne can clean up this mess and I can have a closer look at you."

With that, he turned around on his heel, making a clicking sound and spurring Elvis into action who followed him outside to the station's veranda, tailwagging and bouncing like a ball.

It still was a little windy outside, but the sunshine had returned, and in the bright daylight, Elvis didn't look quite as grubby as in the dimly lit cells. He was a small dog with short funny curls that were neatly trimmed, mostly cream coloured, with a few dark brown, almost black spots in his coat. If Richard had been in a imaginative mood, he might have thought he looked like café au lait, with dark chocolate sprinkles here and there. But of course, he was far from being in anything but a very prosaic frame of mind – he was merely mustering the little guy objectively and trying to form an impression.

As he had already suspected, it was totally unclear what race the mutt could be, but that didn't matter to him, anyway – it was only an aspect as a first indication of what kind of character he might have to expect as certain dogs were bred for certain purposes. Elvis had big friendly eyes, and he sat down obediently when Richard told him to do so, tilting his head to one side and giving him – whom he clearly recognised and accepted as being the one in command – an adoring look.

When Richard reached out to pet his head, Elvis nuzzled his hand – and Richard's heart melted. He gave the funny little dog in front of him a genuine smile and said softly "Good boy… yes, you're a good boy…"

He didn't notice that Camille was watching him from the station's entrance door. She was really touched to see her boss, the cool and reserved Detective Inspector Poole who'd rather saw off his leg than admit that he had 'feelings', falling in love with this strange little dog. There was heartfelt affection in his face, and his gaze was soft and open like she had never seen it before.

She remembered how he had told her about his childhood friend… his grandparents's dog who had been his companion during school holidays. Back then, she had thought it was silly of him to talk about the dog's death as if it could be compared to losing Aimee, but now she realised that perhaps it hadn't been so silly after all. He clearly hadn't had many friends in his life…

Her voice was soft when she finally said "Sir? Would you perhaps like to speak to Dwayne now?"

His head turned, and although there still was a hint of the former expression on his face, it was like a curtain had fallen - and he said in his usual stand-offish manner "Yes, thank you, Camille, I guess that's a good idea."

With that, he got up and went inside – with Elvis hard on his heels. It was quite clear that Elvis had chosen him to be his master, and nobody else stood a chance any more.

Dwayne brought a bowl of water and set it down by Richard's desk. "What's that for? Another attempt at soaking my feet?" Richard asked huffily.

With some effort, Dwayne managed _not_ to roll his eyes – he didn't want to gamble away the chance he was seeing to make the best of a situation he didn't feel comfortable with.

"That's for Elvis," he said and then added, noticing Richard's indignant expression, "I think it's clear that he'd rather sit by your side than in the cells now…"

With that, he spread a fleece blanket with a hideous leopard print on the floor. In response to Richard's inquiring look, he hastened to explain that this was the little dog's blanket. "Prissy left it for him so he'd have something to cuddle up," he said.

Richard nodded and sat down. Immediately, Elvis laid down on the blanket, got comfortable and made content smacking noises before he dozed off and began to snore faintly.

Fidel and Camille had sat down at their respective desks again and pretended to be completely engrossed in their work, but of course Richard knew that they would be listening to every word that he and Dwayne would exchange… There was no privacy in this place. Come to think of it, it was like that all over the island – you just had to live with it.

He heaved a sigh, cleared his throat and asked "So, Dwayne, would you perhaps reiterate how Elvis has ended up here?"

Dwayne pulled up a chair and sat down. When he had finished talking, Richard leant back in his chair and said "Well, let me sum this up once again to see if I got it all correctly: Your – er – lady friend by the name of _Priscilla_ got this little dog from the shelter in St. Antoine – where he has spent the past half year - about six weeks ago. About a week ago, she got notice from her niece _Lisa Marie_ on Martinique that her sister _Gladys_ is in hospital and would get out a week later… and could Priscilla please come over to help looking after her because Lisa Marie has a full time job working shifts and there's nobody around to help. Priscilla couldn't take – er – _Elvis_ with her due to number of reasons, mostly because she wouldn't have the time to look after him and there was no space in her sister's flat for him, and also Gladys isn't fond of dogs. So, because Priscilla is skint and couldn't afford paying for a kennel, she left Elvis with you for the next two weeks – or longer, depending on how long she'll have to stay with her sister…"

Dwayne nodded and said appreciatevely "Spot on, sir."

Richard frowned, and his officer hastily continued "You know, Elvis was perfectly quiet and all at my house as long as Prissy was around. It didn't occur to me that he'd get upset as soon as she left."

"So, he went up the walls as soon as she had left?" Richard wanted to know.

Dwayne had the decency to hang his head. "No," he admitted. "He just went bonkers when I left him alone. Prissy had said he doesn't like to be alone, but I had figured that it couldn't be that bad…"

Richard pursed his lips and mused "Well, he comes from a shelter. And even if he didn't, you never know what kind of experiences he has made before with humans."

He looked down at the little dog that was peacefully dozing on his blanket and obviously entirely content with where he was at the moment.

"Well," he took up the thread again, "I suppose he can stay here during the daytime…" – and noticing that Elvis was pricking one of his ears, he added a bit more loudly – "as long as he behaves himself!"

Dwayne jumped up and exclaimed snappily "Oh, thank you, sir" – his relief was almost tangible. Fidel and Camille had given up on pretending they didn't listen, and when Richard looked in their direction, he caught them exchanging a meaningful glance and a smile.

Abruptly, he said "Right. Don't you have any work to do?"

Fidel looked away quickly and focused on his file again, but Camille smiled at him warmly before she turned to her computer to get on with her work.

A little confused, Richard looked away… and his eyes fell onto the snoozing dog beside his desk. He loosened his tie a little, a hardly visible smile curled his lips and he shook his head lightly… Elvis… what a name!

But given the names of his owner and her family, he'd had no chance – he just _had_ to end up with this name…

* * *

It turned out fairly quickly that Elvis wouldn't be satisfied with just spending the day at the station and returning home with Dwayne at the end of the work day.

Several little incidents showed the team that it wouldn't be as easy as they had hoped it would be…

The main indicator was that it didn't bother Elvis one bit when Dwayne and Fidel went for their regular market patrol, but when Richard left to pick up a sandwich and do a little grocery shopping during his lunch break, this didn't go down too well with him. He whimpered and yelped when Richard left and didn't take him along. Camille had to take him by the collar so he didn't follow Richard, and it took him a while to calm down. Eventually, though, he licked Camille's hand before he trotted to his blanket rolled up again and continued to snooze in peace. He seemed to figure that _she_ was still there, and she was friendly enough, so there was hope…

Dwayne made a snarky remark about how the pooch obviously had completely forgotten that _he_ had fed him over the past couple of days. It rankled him that Elvis had become instantly attached to the Chief – and that he had taken to ignore him completely ever since Richard had entered the scene. But of course, it was silly to be jealous – and he comforted himself with the insight that it was more important to be successful with the ladies than with dogs.

Fidel laughed and began winding him up that he was upset because he had been outdone by the Chief, and Dwayne got even more upset, pointing out that there was no accounting for taste, and Elvis naturally had no idea about his – Dwayne's – qualities – if he had, he'd respect him. Camille teased him that Prissy had obviously overestimated his qualities, whatever they were – or at least measured them by standards that didn't apply to Elvis…

Dwayne was a little miffed with their teasing, and it didn't help that Elvis literally made a song and a dance when Richard returned from his break a little later.

"You'd think he's the king of the castle…" Dwayne muttered under his breath as he watched Elvis leaping, jumping and yelping when Richard entered the station. Fidel turned around and remarked with a wicked smile "Well, come to think of it, he is – and little Elvis here has obviously realised quickly who's in charge …"

The older officer just huffed and made a dismissive gesture. He wasn't impressed at all. But it was a good thing that Prissy's dog loved Richard so much and that the affection was mutual – that way, he was at least rid of the responsibility during work hours… He wasn't quite sure how he'd deal with the evenings – he didn't want to give up on his usual life and stay home every night for weeks – but well, he'd cross that bridge once he'd get there.


	3. Love at First Sight

Chapter 3- Love at First Sight

As Camille had predicted, it turned out to be a rather ordinary day. Once the hubbub of Elvis's discovery had died down, nothing really exciting happened any more. There were a few phone calls, the usual patrols, a lot of file work and some organisational matters that needed to be taken care of - altogether it was almost a little dull.

That gave her plenty of time to observe the budding friendship between Richard and Elvis. It was obviously a case of 'love at first sight' - for both parties! - so the next two weeks would definitely be very interesting. When Richard got up to do something, Elvis initially stirred to check if he was going away - after a couple of times, though, he had obviously understood that this wouldn't happen - his master wouldn't leave him alone.

Richard treated Elvis pretty much as if he wasn't there, but Camille knew him well enough to see that he made an effort not to disturb the little dog by making unexpected, hasty movements. He clearly was considerate of him. Once or twice she saw him looking at the little creature, his lips were twitching, as if he was suppressing an emotion or a memory, and she wondered what he might be thinking of...

As she was watching her boss from under her lashes, he was reaching into his jacket's pocket... there was a rustling noise – plastic wrapping foil, she assumed - ... and then Elvis was sitting up, pricking his ears and scampering closer towards Richard... who furtively passed him a treat.

With a tiny smile, she returned her gaze to the computer screen. She quite enjoyed this scenario. She had been besotted herself with Elvis from the first minute, and she could understand why Richard liked him, too. He was a clever little dog, and although there wasn't anything blatantly special or remarkable about him, he was friendly and sociable without being annoying. He just had that special something…

After Richard had made him stop yelping, he had been quiet, except for the occasional puffing and snoring, and he hadn't been as hyperactive as she had feared him to be. He had kept them all on the hop on the day before, and she had been worried he might be one of those hysterical, jumpy dogs that made a fuss of literally everything. She had known that Richard wouldn't tolerate that, so she had been a little apprehensive when Dwayne's dilemma had become obvious and she had allowed him - as the senior officer in charge - to bring Elvis to the station. She had obviously hoped that Richard wouldn't mind too much – or that he could at least be convinced that it was an emergency – but she definitely hadn't expected him to fall for Elvis like that…

* * *

In all honesty, Richard was _smitten_ with Elvis. He couldn't quite explain his feelings - this was by far the most unprepossessing little dog he had ever seen - at least at first glance. He was small and plump, his proportions were slightly ungainly, he didn't seem to have anything to recommend himself, and the initial encounter had been tarnished by the incident with the puddle on the floor...

Yet, he had lots of character, and he was a very friendly little pooch. Initially, Richard had only found him somewhat amusing, but when Elvis had followed him outside, sat down and nuzzled his hand as he was petting him, he had really been touched, and the expression of absolute trust in his eyes when he had looked at him had won him over. He had been reminded of his childhood, about the many happy hours he had spent at his grandparents's home, idling about with his canine friend... he had told him about his life at school, shared his secrets and wishes with him, played with him... and when he had been sad for whatever reason, the dog's presence had comforted him. When he got hit by a car when Richard was eleven, he had been devastated… in hindsight that had been when his childhood had ended and he had become a lonely grown-up in a child's body.

It was funny how Elvis seemed to have taken to him instantly. It had been a long time since Richard had felt a connection like this with another creature. As he had grown up, he hadn't been exposed to animals any more - his parents never had had any pets, and although he had toyed with the idea of getting a dog every once in a while, he had always shied away from the responsibility. When he had settled down in the London area, he had consciously decided against having a dog. One thing was that London wasn't ideal for keeping a dog in his opinion, and another aspect had been the time span that he had to spend away from home due to his work. His commute hadn't been dramatically long, but he had often worked late, there had been weekend shifts, and overall, it had just seemed unfair to have a pet under those circumstances.

And of course, it wasn't very hygienic to have pets... Although he had never had any issues as a child when it had come to that aspect of pets, it had started to bother him a little as he had got older.

So, with time, Richard had forgotten about the idea.

Until now.

He didn't account to himself for his longing to make friends with Elvis - he just liked having the little chap around.

* * *

At around five, Fidel asked tentatively "Sir, is it okay if I clock off for today? Juliet and I are invited to see friends tonight, and I have promised to be home in time so we can hand over to Juliet's parents without further ado – they will come to look after Rosie. I'll have to take the bus, so if I don't go now..."

Richard looked up from the documents he was reading and said absent-mindedly "Sure, sure... just zoom off... all of you, if you want to... see you tomorrow, and have fun tonight..."

Fidel packed up and made ready to leave. Dwayne obviously wanted to tag along, but Fidel looked over his shoulder and reminded him "You can't just dash off, Dwayne - you've got the pooch to take care of..."

With that, he was gone - waving them goodbye and running in direction of the bus stop at the other end of the market square.

His colleague pulled a face and said "Oh, I almost forgot..." Scratching his head, he added "To be honest, I have no idea what to do with him. I'm supposed to be at the gym tonight, and I wanted to have a drink with a friend later on... I can't possibly take him along to either place..."

Richard felt anger rising up. That was just so typical... He opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he wanted to say, but he knew he would have to defend the dog.

Before he could come up with anything, though, Camille - who was bending down to pet Elvis - looked up and chimed in "Mind, Dwayne, isn't that a little negligent of you? It's not Elvis's fault that Prissy left him with you, and you _promised_ to look after him..."

Dwayne shrugged a little helplessly and said "Yeah, I know, but I can't change my life for him, can I! I mean, I can deal with _cats_... they come and go as they want, and they'll let you know when they want to cuddle... other than that, they will just leave you in peace. I've never had a dog, though - and I can see now that this was a good decision! Elvis is nice enough and all, but I can't possibly stay home all the time just because he works himself into a frenzy when he's alone..."

Camille glowered at him and there was reproachful disapproval in her voice when she said "Oh, Dwayne, you should have mentioned this to Prissy when she asked you to take him in. I'm sure she could have found someone else then... I would take him myself, but I can't - you know that there are regulations when it comes to pets when you have a gastronomical service, and Maman couldn't allow me to keep him. It's one thing if guests bring their dogs - that's no problem, particularly when you have an outdoor venue, but _keeping_ a pet is a whole different thing..."

She bent down again and stroked Elvis who gave a faint grunt and wagged his tail, oblivious to the drama going on around him. He obviously loved the attention he got from Camille – and Richard caught himself thinking that he quite understood that… it surely was special to 'be noticed' by Camille…

Just as he was pushing this thought to the side, she looked up to him and smiled. "He's cute, isn't he?" she remarked, and Richard raised his eyebrows and replied in a huff "Whatever that means. I guess he's okay, yes…" He watched Elvis turning over and offering Camille his belly – successfully so, much to his pleasure. Camille gave him a good belly rub, and Elvis made appreciative noises that were somewhere between a wheeze and a grunt.

"He's quite fond of you…"

Richard's voice sounded a little strained, and Camille looked up to him, curious now. But he wore his usual poker face. She gave Elvis a final pat and got up, straightening her skirt and saying "Yes, he is… good boy! But he loves you more, sir… there's no doubt about it."

Richard gave her a slightly scornful glance, then he bent down to pet Elvis – who obviously felt that he had somehow made it to paradise… all these people making a fuss about him!

Oblivious to his surroundings, he ruffled the dog's fur – he didn't notice Camille making a jerky movement with her head towards Dwayne, signalling with the urgent look in her eyes that it was up to him to make a move now.

Dwayne hesitated for a moment, then he cleared his throat and said "Chief…"

Richard didn't stop stroking and tickling Elvis, but he looked up. "Yes?"

His voice was gruff.

Dwayne knew there was no turning back now. So he pulled himself together and continued "Mind you, sir, could you… I mean, it's obvious that Elvis is totally dotty about you, and… and I get the impression that you don't find him all that appalling, so… could you… I mean… would you perhaps be so kind and look after Elvis for me? I mean, I'm not so great with that sort of thing, and he'd… he'd surely fare a lot better with you than with me…"

Richard's eyes narrowed, and he raised his right eyebrow at Dwayne. He knew exactly that this made the older officer terribly nervous, although he never would have admitted it.

"You mean, you're asking me to take him home with me?"

Dwayne nodded and added, mild despair in his voice "You know, Chief, it would be much better for Elvis. And you'd have some company in that shack of yours – I imagine it can get a little lonely at your beach sometimes…"

Silence.

Camille stood by Richard's desk, not saying a word. She had decided she'd only intervene if things went horribly wrong, but she wanted to make sure that Dwayne didn't have it too easy. She liked her colleague, but she felt that he had acted irresponsibly here, and he needed to suffer for his sins – at least a little bit.

Dwayne tried again and said "I'd pay for the food – I mean, Prissy left me some money, for the necessities, as she said… I would hand that over to you, together with his blanket and the toys… they're in the cells, so you can take them with you tonight already. It's not all that many, just a ball and a little squeaky rubber bone, that sort of thing… and then he could stay with you when he's not… when he's not here, I mean."

Richard's gaze was stony for a moment, and Dwayne thought he had blown it, but then his boss nodded curtly and said "Okay, we can try that. Get those toys out of the cells so we can wrap things up here and bring Elvis… to my house." He had almost said "home", but changed his mind in the last minute. The shack where he lived wasn't Elvis's home – it would be his interim asylum… He would have to keep that in mind.

Dwayne scurried off, and Camille let out a sigh of relief – she hadn't noticed, but she had held her breath.

"What?" asked Richard and raised his eyebrows. "Did you think I'd let him suffer a fate worse than death?"

Camille was about to answer his question with a question, but didn't want to do so with Dwayne being within earshot, so she just mouthed 'later!' and turned to her colleague to take the toys off his hands. She bunged them into her bag, than she put out her hand and demanded "Fork over the money!"

Richard was stifling a chuckle as he saw Dwayne's expression change from grateful to annoyed. The older officer had obviously thought he'd get away like that, but Camille had no mercy. Reluctantly, he took out his wallet and handed Camille a number of banknotes, giving her a reproachful look – but he was clever enough not to object.

Camille said sweetly "Thank you so much, Dwayne. You'll close down the station, okay? And we will take Elvis and his belongings to the Rover now – I'll drive the Chief and his new house guest to their residence."

Turning to the surprised Richard – who had been fully prepared to walk home - she explained "I think it's easier this way for you. You may have to bring back the blanket and one of the toys tomorrow, but maybe we can find a different way of handling it later on." Richard nodded – he had a couple of threadbare towels and a fleece blanket that he could spare for Elvis, but for the first night in a new surrounding, the dog would perhaps feel more comfortable with his old blankie.

"Get up, Elvis," he demanded, and the little dog jumped to his feet, wagging his tail and awaiting his next adventure. Dwayne grabbed the blanket, and Elvis began to protest, but Richard silenced him with a severe "Hush – quiet now. Sit!" Much to Dwayne's frustration, Elvis stopped yelping, sat down and looked expectantly at Richard.

It was really disgusting how servile this little dog was, Dwayne thought… But then again, it would save everyone a lot of trouble, and he really was glad to be rid of the responsibility. Strange, though, that he felt a little shoddy now… ah, that was all because of Camille's snooty behaviour and the Chief's smugness… they had really made him grovel!

Camille sailed out of the office, and slightly annoyed, Dwayne followed her, carrying the blanket and the toys. Richard grabbed his briefcase, called out "come on" – and left the premises, closely followed by Elvis.


	4. Getting Adjusted

Chapter 4 – Getting Adjusted

Later that evening, when Richard had gone to bed, he let the events of the day pass by in review. When he had set off for work this morning, he hadn't had any idea about how eventful and exciting this day would turn out for him.

He listened to the faint snoring of the dog sleeping on his makeshift bed – made of the fleece blanket that had served as a 'coverlet' for one of the outside chairs, a few old towels that he didn't use any more and a hideous cushion (one of the items that Richard summarised under 'Charlie Hulme's legacy') - Richard had hidden it in his cupboard (out of sight, out of mind!), but it had exactly the right size for Elvis's bed, so at least it served a purpose now…

Elvis had chosen the place himself – he had instantly been drawn to the tree that grew in Richard's shack, and that was where they had made his bed.

On the way to his house, they had stopped at the store and got a few things – among other stuff, they had bought food for Elvis, two more toys, doggy poop bags and and a sling with a ball.

"What's that?" Camille had asked when she had seen that last item. Richard had explained how it worked, and she had nodded understandingly. "That way you won't have to touch a soggy, slimy ball all the time – that's clever!"

He had pointed to a few other toys and explained their respective qualities and advantages – as well as their drawbacks. Apparently, she had been quite impressed with his knowledge…

Looking back on the day, Richard realised that something had shifted between him and Camille - and while he had felt that they had been going into that direction for a while already, it had become a little more evident today.

Recently, there had been a few times when he had felt almost giddy because he had thought he had detected a sign of affection for him in her behaviour. Particularly over the second year of his stay on Saint Marie, there had been situations that had made his head swim... for example, when she had mistaken him for her blind date, she had seemed surprised, but not disgusted - she had sat down with him and appeared to be willing to give it a go until her mother had cleared up the misunderstanding. That had startled and confused him, but it had also made him look at their situation with different eyes - if she hadn't refused following through with a (blind) date with him, maybe he wasn't so beneath her after all?

Another example had been their conversation in the weather lab - she had not laughed at him when he had confessed that he had felt a little homesick, and when he had pointed out that he was good at solving puzzles because he had always been on his own, she had come up with the memorable line 'You don't have to do things by yourself any more - you have me now' - why had she said that? What could it mean? Had it been an indication that she _liked_ or even _fancied_ him... or saw more in him than a colleague?

When she hadn't behaved differently afterwards, he had figured he had obviously over-interpreted her remark, and all that it had meant had been that they were professional partners and he could rely on her.

But then she had hugged him before he had left for London, and she had thrown that welcome party for him after his return... He had not dared to believe that it meant anything, but of course, he hadn't been able to stop wondering...

In general, she had become a little softer towards him, but she had still taken every opportunity to tease him, and although she hadn't ridiculed him in a while, there had been a few situations when she had ganged up with Dwayne against him. Fidel usually tried to stay out of that sort of thing - he was generally more respectful towards Richard and avoided open opposition. Every once in a while, he would have reservations or scruples about something, and he had learnt how to voice them, but he never openly criticised Richard. Neither did the others, come to think about it, but Dwayne and Camille were more straightforward when it came to telling him that something was rubbish in their opinion.

Today, however, the dynamics had been different. It had struck him that Camille had _not_ sided with Dwayne - which she might have done a year ago or so. She had taken his side instead and made Dwayne suffer, and there had been some kind of complicity between them that he hadn't perceived before.

And she had been very helpful when it had come to getting Elvis to his shack. She had gone shopping with him, and she had played with the little dog to keep him entertained while Richard had set up Elvis's bed. Harry the lizard had made a brief appearance – but fortunately, Elvis had been totally disinterested and merely had passed him a haughty glance. Lizards obviously were beneath notice in his book…

Before she had left, she had cuddled Elvis - and Richard had been mesmerised by her gleeful laughter and her big brown eyes that had been radiant with joy when Elvis had licked her hand and jumped up and down with delight.

"See you tomorrow..." she had finally said, walked to the Rover and zoomed off - not without waving.

It had been a harmonious evening, and Elvis had certainly helped to keep the conversation going. Richard usually didn't quite know what to talk about with Camille - he didn't want to ask her personal things (not because he wasn't interested, but rather because he didn't want to be asked personal things, either, and Camille already knew him better than most people did – she had a way of drawing him out that was downright cunning), so they were either stuck with talking about work or about general things. Tonight, they had mostly chatted about pets, and that had been fun.

Camille had told him about a cat she'd used to have as a little girl, then a bunny, and finally a gerbil.

"The kitty was there before Maman had the bar – it wasn't mine, actually – it belonged to the neighbour, but she let me take care of her... She was older already when we moved in, and when I was 12, she died – that was quite awful for me…" Her voice had trailed off.

After a while she had continued "The bunny and the gerbil lived in cages in the garden, so that was no problem despite the bar. I loved them all to bits and was devastated when their life span ended and they had to go over the rainbow bridge…" she had admitted.

For a moment, she had been silent again, lost in thought, and then she had added "I gave up on pets when I left for France. It just wasn't feasible. Too many transfers, too little stability – it wouldn't have worked out."

Richard had nodded and agreed "I see your point. Though circumstances were different, it was basically the same for me – I mean, in the UK I worked fairly long hours, and I couldn't have taken care of a pet the way it should be… At least not a dog, I mean. Of course, a cat would have been okay, but you know how I feel about cats, so that was out of the question for me. I'm afraid I'm not into bunnies or gerbils, either, so…"

They had been sitting on the veranda, Elvis had been resting on an old towel that he had dragged out. He was apparently a little peculiar when it came to the surfaces he liked to lie on. The wooden veranda clearly wasn't to his liking.

Camille had turned her head and asked softly "Well, it's not a problem here to have a dog…"

"No, although it will be an adjustment," Richard had conceded. Then he had remembered how she had wanted to say something to him before they had left the station, and he had asked "What was it that you wanted to tell me 'later' when we were at the station and I had asked if you thought I'd let him suffer a fate worse than death?"

Camille had chuckled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Actually, I had wanted to ask you whom you were referring to… Dwayne or Elvis…" she admitted. It took him a moment to understand, then he grinned.

"That's a good question," he had replied. "What's your guess?"

She had laughed then and responded "Well, honestly, we both know that each of them would have had a horrible time with the other – but somehow I think that you were less interested in Dwayne's well being than in Elvis's…"

Richard had nodded and said "Bingo. Dwayne is a great chap, but I felt he wasn't acting very responsibly here. I just wonder what his lady friend will say when she finds out that he has given Elvis to foster care…"

"Oh, most likely nothing – Dwayne will make sure she won't find out," Camille had assumed.

With that, she had got up and sighed. "Time to go now," she had said. "Good night, sir…" – and then she had bent down to cuddle the dog who had been pleased to get yet another belly rub.

* * *

When Camille came to the station on the next morning, she was greeted by a grumpy-looking Dwayne who sat outside on the veranda and an amused Fidel who stood in the doorway and put a finger to his mouth, indicating that it would be better to be silent.

Quickly, she looked over to Richard – boy, he looked tired! She entered the station quietly, sat at her desk, booted her computer and waited for him to speak.

Eventually, his bleary-eyed gaze met hers… much to his surprise, her eyes conveyed compassion rather than mirth. She felt encouraged to address him and asked "Had a rough night?" - and he nodded.

Ponderously, he pulled out a handkerchief, briefly went over his forehead with it and finally explained "Elvis was determined to give me a lesson in yodelling last night. You might remember that we're close to a full moon, and after he had slept peacefully for some hours, he woke up in the middle of the night and was inspired to toddle out and howl at the moon… In hindsight, I must admit that it was quite impressive, but I almost had a heart attack when I woke up to his wauling. It took me some time to convince him that this was neither the time nor the place for a vocal performance… not to mention that I wasn't a particularly gracious or interested audience…"

Camille's mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh, and Richard continued – after having let out a heartfelt sigh – "It was about half past three when he finally decided his talent was wasted on me… and of course, the croaking frogs in my neighbourhood woke me up again at half past four… So, I'm afraid I'm not in tip top shape today. But I'll pick myself up, so no worries – I'll be okay eventually…"

Noticing the amusement in her eyes, he made a dismissive gesture and said "It's alright, Camille, you can laugh at me. I have gone through such misery over the past twenty-four hours, I will survive your scorn and mockery as well… so go ahead, feel free to ridicule me…"

Camille shook her head, suddenly serious, and said "Why would I? I'm sorry it's been a bit of a rough night, but I'm sure it will get better from now on…"

* * *

And she was right. Over the next few days, Richard tried to establish a routine with Elvis. It didn't always quite work the way he had planned, but somehow he didn't mind – if one thing didn't work, he tried something else. It was remarkably easy for him to read the dog's behaviour – he wished he'd be half as good at reading people. But then, people were more fickle than dogs. Elvis had clear preferences when it came to food, to how he wanted his bed, to what sort of game he liked… it wasn't like you had to be familiar with any kind of secret code – which was what made dealing with humans so horribly complicated. With Elvis, you didn't have to read between the lines – you got what you saw, there was no hidden agenda, and you didn't have to jump through hoops to impress him. You just took him for walkies, fed him, talked to him and cuddled him – and he didn't argue, answer back or sulk for hours as long as you were good to him.

Around the house, they had quickly found some sort of mutual understanding – and habits were created (these did _not_ include howling at the moon – Elvis had not tried that again).

Twice over the past week, Camille had visited them in the evening – she hadn't stayed very long, but it had been nice to sit and have a beer with her while chatting about work and how their day had gone…

It was no problem to take Elvis to the station with him – the little dog was happy to doze on his blanket or sit on the veranda, keeping watch and ward, every once in a while one team member or another took him outside for a little walk, or they played with him on the veranda, and during his lunch break, Richard usually took him for a longer walk to the harbour and back or to some other place. Sometimes Camille tagged along – those were Elvis's favourite lunch breaks! – and they ended up sitting on a bench having ice cream or visiting Camille's mother who always had a bowl of water and a little treat for Elvis.

They had been called out a few times, but there hadn't been any murders. There had been a burglary, a brawl in a bar and a major accident with a lorry outside of Saint Marie, so it hadn't been anything too dramatic. Initially, Richard hadn't planned to take Elvis with him when he left the station for investigating, but the little dog hadn't given him any choice – he had just jumped up and followed Richard when he had rushed out of the station with his briefcase. They would have lost valuable time if they had tried to make an example and insist on him staying at the station, so with a sigh, Richard had agreed with Camille's suggestion to let him sit in the back of the Rover… and after that first time, there was no turning back.

The team had got used to Elvis's presence. Fidel enjoyed playing with him, and Dwayne quite liked having him around, too.

He was no longer annoyed with how attached Elvis had become to Richard – he realised that it made everything so much easier for him. He was a little worried about Prissy's reaction when she'd find out that he had foisted the dog off on Richard, but with a little luck that would never happen… she had texted a few times and asked how everything was going, and Dwayne had always responded that Elvis spent the days at the station with him and that he seemed quite happy – which was entirely true. Fortunately, she didn't probe any deeper – she was obviously pre-occupied with worrying about her sister. Things weren't going so well there, and in the beginning of the second week, she informed Dwayne that she would have to stay longer than anticipated, maybe a week or even two more than she had originally planned.

Her sister – who was only recovering very slowly - gave her good money and let her stay at her house for free, of course, and there were always family or friends coming to visit - so she actually didn't miss Saint Marie too much.

Richard was relieved to hear on Monday morning that Prissy would stay on Martinique for a little longer. He had just spent a quite enjoyable weekend with Elvis – he had taken him for a long, long walk on Saturday, and on Sunday, they had 'done chores' together – that had meant that Richard had taken care of his laundry and some basic housework while Elvis had got comfortable on his towel on the veranda, keeping an eye on Harry and trying not to get provoked by the lizard's hasty and unpredictable movements. In the evening, they had watched some TV together, and Richard had started on another jigsaw puzzle that he had purchased the other day.

It was strange how the presence of the dog gave him a feeling of belonging. He had learnt to appreciate his own company during his time on Saint Marie – in the UK, he had constantly tried to distract himself from negative thoughts, feelings of inadequacy and worries about his career, but on Saint Marie there hadn't been any distraction for him (unless he would have wanted to turn to drinking, clubbing or watersports – and he wasn't interested in any of those), so he had retreated to reading and other self-sufficient activities – but he had felt a little lonely at times. With Elvis, that was different. He wasn't as complicated as humans, but he still conveyed a certain sense of compassion and 'togetherness', for lack of a better word.

So, when Dwayne mentioned that Prissy would only return on the weekend after next (or maybe even later), Richard was pleased to see that this meant he'd have more time with Elvis. He'd make the most of it…


	5. Discoveries

Chapter 5 - Discoveries

Camille had observed Richard's blossoming relationship with Elvis with slightly mixed feelings.

Of course, she was happy for him that he had found a friend in the little pooch, and it was good to see that he wasn't the grumpy old bachelor that he usually pretended to be – during her recent visits with him, he had smiled more than during the entire time she had known him before (which was well over two years now!), and even at the station he had loosened up a little.

Initially, he had tried to maintain the picture of the grouch who had just reluctantly agreed to temporarily taking care of this little creature in distress, but it hadn't taken more than half a day to become obvious that this picture was a huge fake. He had found it hard to suppress his smiles about the little dog's antics, and his voice had betrayed him, too. It was not that he was mawkish or gushing with Elvis – no, he was firm and clear in his commands, and it was clear who had the say-so. But he had a special tone for the pooch, and everyone had noticed, so there was no point in hiding his affection.

She had recently made a point of popping by at his place for surprise visits a few times – out of curiosity, as she had told herself. The truth was that she loved Elvis, and she loved watching Richard interacting with Elvis – he was so much more relaxed in the dog's presence, and more open, too. She wasn't quite ready yet to admit to herself how much she enjoyed Richard's company – but the truth was that she did, and she wanted to make the most of this unexpected situation… by dropping by from time to time, their relationship could grow, too, and although she didn't want to pinpoint why, it was important to her…

She had never stayed long, but their conversations on those occasions had been friendly, and he had even disclosed a few personal things – more or less in passing, there hadn't been any huge confessions. And so Camille had got a better understanding of Richard's personality, thanks to all this. She remembered that she had initially thought he was a difficult, annoying chauvinist… but she had grown to like him over the time she had been working with him, and particularly during the second year of his stay, they had got on quite well. They still bickered and had 'differences in opinion', but they also exchanged more banter now – they had become friends. As much as you could become friends with someone as reserved as Richard Poole…

A couple of times, Camille had got the impression that she was more for him than just a colleague or his sidekick during investigations. She had tried to figure out how he felt about her, but it had been impossible – he had never let on that he might perhaps wish for a relationship that went beyond the awkward friendship they shared. All her experience with men was useless in this context – because Richard was like nobody else. He was a mystery to her…

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had a fairly good insight when it came to his character and how it had been formed, but he was extremely cautious in regard to showing his emotions, so it was hard to figure out how he felt about things and people.

She knew that he thought Dwayne wasn't a very responsible person – and it was obvious that he didn't quite get how someone could be completely disinterested in getting beyond the plain officer's rank – but nevertheless, he relied on him and his 'connections', and he had clearly been fairly lenient with some of Dwayne's behaviour patterns – obviously he had realised that there was no way Dwayne would ever change, so it would be a waste of time and energy to nag at him about wanting him to adapt a different attitude.

It was also quite clear that he appreciated Fidel's precision and diligence. He thought that Fidel had potential – otherwise he wouldn't have encouraged him to sit for the sergeants' exam. Camille was fairly sure that he liked Fidel – and he felt that Fidel was a responsible, serious person who didn't take advantage of people. Richard never made any objections when the young officer asked for time off when family things came up – because Fidel didn't overdo it, he only asked when there was no other way. Sometimes, Fidel asked too many questions and was a bit over-eager, and Richard wasn't too keen on that, but other than that, he got on well with his sergeant and acknowledged his efforts to work efficiently and accurately.

But how he felt about _her_ , Camille didn't quite know.

However, that wasn't significant in the context of his love for Elvis.

What made her feel a little uneasy about Richard's devotion to Elvis was that she wondered how he'd deal with having to part with him again eventually – she was afraid he'd deal with that quite badly. Richard didn't trust easily, and his feelings most likely ran deep, so having to let go of Elvis would be a major issue for him. Whenever the topic of Prissy came up, he always pointed out matter-of-factly that Elvis belonged to her, but Camille was aware of the fact that this statement was pretty much lip-service – deep down, Richard felt that Elvis belonged to him, and no matter how neutral or objective he'd try to appear – he'd suffer when it would be time to part.

She knew that he had never intended to let the dog steal his heart – but it _had_ happened, and considering that Prissy would want him back quite soon, this would be very, very hard for Richard. Camille wondered in how far he was aware of the looming blow… and how he would cope when it struck.

Well, Prissy wouldn't show up for another two weeks, as it seemed, so there was time for Richard to think of a coping strategy. Camille hoped that he'd find a way to deal with it – she certainly would be there for him if he wanted someone to lean on, but she feared he'd shut her out…

Discreetly, Camille had gathered information about Prissy… and about Elvis.

Dwayne hadn't been very helpful – it had been clear that he really, really liked Prissy and her quirky character, but that didn't say all that much.

So, she had asked her old school friend Floriane who had moved to St. Antoine some years ago, a small town at the other side of the island, and volunteered at the shelter there. It had turned out that Elvis had already had his name before Prissy had adopted him, so Richard had been mistaken when he had assumed that she had named him that way. Actually, Prissy had mostly noticed him _because_ of his name.

The Robinsons, his previous owners – a middle aged couple without children - had moved away from Saint Marie, to the States, and they had decided that they couldn't take him with them. There were no severe requirements like quarantine or anything else, but they were moving due to job reasons, and the husband's future employer offered them accommodation – however, pets were not allowed. Even if they had been allowed, Mrs Robinson had got a job, too – while she had worked from home here on Saint Marie, so it had been easy for her to keep an eye on Elvis, her new position would take her out of the house, plus she would travel a lot, so given the fact that Elvis hated being by himself, they would have to hire a dogsitter more or less constantly or take him to a kennel regularly – they didn't want that.

Another issue was that Elvis was too big to be transported as carry-on luggage, and he'd very likely have a heart attack if he had to go into a transport box and travel as cargo in the luggage department… They would have to sedate him for that, obviously, and there was a chance he'd bark up a storm once he'd get out of the drowsiness and cause a chaos… and of course, you always heard of pets not surviving the journey by plane, and they loved Elvis too much to expose him to all these terrors.

So, after much thinking and considering, they had decided to leave Elvis behind and take him to the shelter so he could get adopted by someone else. It seemed fair and responsible to handle it that way as they couldn't possibly take him with them under the circumstances given, and they had no family on Saint Marie, so there had been nobody around who could have taken the dog.

Floriane had rolled her eyes when Camille had asked her about Prissy.

"She's a nice enough girl, but a bit of an erratic airhead, and it seemed to me that originally she was looking for a lap dog… kind of like Paris Hilton, you know…"

Floriane's tone of voice had clearly showed what her opinion on that matter was. Camille had chuckled and remarked that Elvis didn't quite fall into that category… and Floriane had nodded, adding "Neither when it comes to looks nor when it comes to his character… When we showed her the dogs we had, she was clearly disappointed – we didn't have many dogs to begin with at that time, and most of them were rather big, so she didn't have many to choose from, anyway. Then Marie – the other volunteer – mentioned Elvis, and she was electrified – the name obviously struck a chord. No surprise when you're called Priscilla yourself, I reckon."

Floriane had wrinkled her nose, and Camille just had rolled her eyes.

"Initially, I had a sinking feeling about her and figured she had got the dog on a whim, but she seemed to get on really well with him, so she got him, and when Marie went to visit – as we usually do after two weeks or so – all seemed to go well. She shared a house with a friend, Elvis seemed to like it, and he looked fine… She mentioned she'd move to her own place hopefully rather sooner than later because her friend's fiancé was going to move in eventually, but other than that, she was cheerful and happy… Mind, is there a particular reason why you're asking? Is Prissy a suspect or something?"

Floriane had been getting curious now.

Camille had shaken her head and said "No, but she's my co-worker's most recent flame, and she went to Martinique a little while ago to take care of her elder sister who's recovering from surgery and left Elvis behind. My co-worker had agreed to look after him, but it's not as easy as he had originally thought so our boss has taken over custody, so to speak. He and Elvis are as thick as thieves, and I wonder what will happen when Prissy comes back from Martinique…"

Floriane had blinked and gaped at Camille. "You mean, the stiff inspector in his woollen suits is taking care of Elvis now?"

Obviously, she had found that hard to believe. Camille had grinned and said "Yeah, I know – sounds like an unlikely friendship, doesn't it? But really, they get on like a house on fire, and the Inspector actually is quite human when he's with Elvis!"

Floriane had laughed out loud and remarked "Oh, I'd love to see that! Having said that, Elvis is a really likable dog once you get to look behind the obvious. He's not a standard beauty, but he's got lots of character, so, in that respect he's a good match for your boss."

Camille had raised her eyebrows – now, that was an interesting analogy. Before she could put in a word, Floriane had continued "And although I don't know the inspector very well, I'd bet he can be quite obsessive about – how do you call it… procedure! – just like Elvis gets obsessive about his habits. Does he still drag around towels because he doesn't want to lie on the floor?"

A perplexed nod had been the response, and Floriane had giggled and explained "That was Marie's pet peeve – Elvis was one of her favourites, but she hated it how he always dragged around the towels or blankies… You know, the dogs usually share these, and we never have enough of them, so it was a nuisance how Elvis just sat on two or three towels, not wanting to share them… Mind, he was friendly with the other dogs, and he hated being by himself, anyway, but he was peculiar with how he sat on those towels, like a pompous little king, not willing to move one inch so some other dog could have any of them…"

Now, that sounded realistic – Camille had sometimes thought that Elvis was sitting on his towels like on a throne, and he was granting an audience to his 'followers' or rather 'devotees'… she couldn't help but join Floriane's giggle. And yes, Richard could be just as fastidious and pompous – so indeed, the parallel was there. It hadn't occurred to her before, but now that Floriane had pointed it out, the scales had fallen from her eyes, so-to-speak.

Eventually, they had sobered again, and Floriane had asked "So, your boss will have to give Elvis back again when Prissy returns from her stay on Martinique?"

Camille had nodded, and her friend had remarked "I hope that won't end up in drama. He was very attached to the Robinsons – they had had him for a couple of years, I think… they had brought him over from Les Saintes, as far as I remember. They got him from friends - Elvis was the result of an 'indiscretion', and his mother's owners wanted to get rid of him, so they gave him away. I think he has a sister somewhere on Les Saintes, but the Robinsons got him as soon as he had been weaned. So, they trained him, and they did a pretty good job, I think. He does have his odd habits, but well, all dogs have their quirks in one way or another, just like us humans do. It took him a long time to get over being left here in the shelter, so we were happy when he perked up eventually. We were relieved when he had finally found a new home, but it remains to be seen what the longterm effects of all this to-and-fro will be. I mean, apparently he didn't suffer too much when Prissy left, but from how you describe it, he's bonded with the Inspector immediately while he was basically just 'friendly-tolerant' about Prissy… don't get me wrong, they got on well, but it seems to me that his relationship with Inspector Poole is a lot stronger already… Well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see…"

This conversation had brought Camille some new insights – but it had also brought new worries.

All she could do at this point, though, was follow Floriane's 'advice'… wait and see… and hope for the best.


	6. Interlude

Chapter 6 - Interlude

Richard was well aware of the risk he was taking in getting too attached to Elvis, but he was sure he could cope. He was a grown man, and he had made quite a few not so pleasant experiences over the years – he had always managed somehow. He was determined to have a good time and enjoy Elvis's stay as long as it lasted – and when Prissy would come to take him back, he'd be happy to hand him over to her… after all, she was his mistress, and he was just a surrogate caretaker. He couldn't have left Elvis with Dwayne – who liked him, but clearly wasn't fit to take care of him. Dwayne had never had a dog, and he didn't like the responsibility that came with taking care of him. It would perhaps have worked out if Elvis had been less nervous on his own, but the way he was, he had made things complicated for Dwayne who was an 'independent spirit' – an euphemism for 'philanderer', as Richard secretly thought. He liked Dwayne, but he wasn't blind for his shortcomings, and commitments of any kind clearly weren't the officer's cup of tea.

Richard was an independent person, too, and he also shied away from commitments – but not because he didn't want them. In his case it was more a matter of being scared of disappointment – what if your counterpart didn't take the commitment as seriously as you did? That would only cause grief and heartache. But with Elvis, it was obviously different – Elvis returned his affection, he was loyal and very obviously appreciated Richard's efforts.

He enjoyed looking after the pooch, and although he didn't quite want to admit it, a very welcome side effect of Elvis's stay at the shack was that Camille somehow seemed to feel inspired to pop by more often, too. She obviously liked the mutt, too, and they had spent quite some time sitting together on the veranda watching Elvis's antics and playing with him. Over this, their conversations had become deeper, too, and Richard had found himself confiding more in her than before… not that he had told her any deep secrets, but he had let her in on past experiences, and they had had some lively discussions about world affairs as well as 'general life observations', as he liked to call it.

He hoped that Camille would still come to visit him sometimes when he was on his own again. Without being aware of it, she had helped him with his resolve to have a little more fun in his life. He had kept telling himself that he didn't want or need any friends, but as unlikely as it seemed, Camille had become quite important to him.

He was attracted to her personality – how could you be indifferent to someone who was so intelligent, yet playful and opinionated? She sometimes annoyed him no end, but their discussions were challenging, interesting and good food for thought – and he enjoyed that (he tried to hide that behind his usual pokerface, but he had a feeling that she knew, anyway).

But he was also strongly aware of her beauty – and although it made him a little uneasy to acknowledge it, he realised that he was physically attracted to her, too. He knew, though, that she didn't reciprocate these feelings, so he hid them well and hoped it didn't matter all that much. He'd get over it, and surely, he could focus on a platonic friendship with her. And really, what else could there be between them?

He was pondering this question again one midweek evening – it had been another slow day at the station, and he had mostly tried to keep himself busy with paperwork. Dwayne and Fidel had taken Elvis for a longish walk around noon when they had gone for their harbour patrol while he and Camille had discussed a file that had been sitting around for a while already. The case was finished and wrapped, but Camille had wondered about a little detail, and they had drifted off into a long winded discussion about procedure, parallels to other cases they had worked on together and the limited possibilities they had due to the non-existent forensics and ballistics on Saint Marie.

As he checked the time, he realised that it was past seven already – it was highly unlikely that Camille would come round to his place at this time any more. Usually – if she decided to come - she showed up between 6.15 and 6.30 – unless they had sat in her mother's bar to have a drink after work… on those evenings, she stayed at La Kaz as a rule and didn't come to his beach at all. That was the pattern that she had developed as of recently, and Richard had learnt to figure out what her parameters for a visit were. Or rather, he had observed and drawn conclusions, and so far, he had always been right – although you could never be 100% sure with Camille…

However, a quarter past seven was way beyond her usual time, so he felt safe to get changed into his dark blue chinos and a short-sleeved white shirt – he wanted to take Elvis for a final walk along the beach before having dinner and settling down for the night. It got dark early in the Caribbean, and he wanted to make sure it would still be light enough for him to see where he and Elvis were going. He was looking forward to taking out Lucy – his precision optical instrument – and gazing at the stars for a little before going to bed later on…

All was quiet on his beach as Richard took the flashlight and called Elvis so they could set off for their walk. Initially, Elvis wasn't overly enthusiastic – he felt he had got enough exercise with Dwayne and Fidel. But then he warmed to the idea – it actually was a lot more fun to go for walkies with Richard as he got to play more. Richard always made a point of throwing a ball or a stick, and Elvis also enjoyed splashing around in the surf. He didn't really like getting all his fur wet, but it was fun to play a little and jump around on the wet sand. He just had to be careful not to get too close to Richard after an expedition to the water as had learnt the hard way that his new master wasn't fond of sand, dirt and grime.

Prissy had usually just taken him for walks on the streets and pavements of Honoré, and that had been a bit boring. He had been allowed to play in the garden, but it was so much nicer on the beach… Also, Richard _really_ played with him – Prissy hardly had done that. She had cuddled him, but there hadn't been any 'games'. Now, being cuddled was fine with Elvis, but he also liked to play…

In fact, these beach walks weren't really 'walks' – they were a mix of running, playing, yelping and jumping for Elvis while Richard walked into a certain direction, at a leisurely step, waiting for the clumsy little dog to catch up or come back with his ball or stick. Nevertheless, it was good exercise for Richard, too – and on weekend afternoons, the walks usually took up to two hours. They weren't overly demanding for Richard, but still he got more exercise than before, and although he usually felt hot, sweaty and uncomfortable afterwards, he enjoyed spending time outside with Elvis. Every once in a while, they 'wrestled' a little when Elvis felt that he didn't want to give up on a stick, the ball or whatever toy Richard had thrown for him. One of his favourites was a wattled rope with tassels and knots – he loved snatching it from Richard, tossing it around and playing tug-of-war with it.

Much to Elvis's joy, it was precisely this toy that Richard had chosen for tonight. And so it was clear that this walk would be yet another enjoyable experience…

* * *

Camille was well aware of how late it was. She had intended to slip away from the bar much earlier, but then one of the regulars had buttonholed her, and she had found it nearly impossible to get away. Hopefully, Richard wouldn't think it was totally inappropriate for her to show up on his doorstep at this time – usually, she made a point of not coming later than 6.15. Coming at dusk or in the darkness had something slightly sneaky about it…

Since she didn't have the Rover tonight - Fidel had needed it for some reason - she had to walk to Richard's beach, and while it wasn't far it still meant that it took her more than twice as long than usually. It was a five minutes drive, but despite various shortcuts she never managed to get there on foot in under 14 minutes (out of curiosity, she had timed herself several times). She had debated with herself about visiting tonight - it was late, and Richard had his routines - she'd hate to throw him out of his loop... mostly because he could get rather grumpy when he felt disturbed. And of course, who knew what plans he had - maybe she'd disturb him while watching one of his precious British TV programmes?

However, she had decided she'd give it a try, anyway - he had loosened up around her lately, and he was surprisingly good company when he forgot his grumpiness. Of course, he'd always be awkward, but somehow, Elvis's presence had mellowed his seemingly apodictical and somewhat opinionated behaviour. Although, come to think of it, he had already been more mellow and relaxed when he had returned from the UK a while ago...

When she arrived at Richard's house, she was disappointed to see that the shutters were closed, and neither Richard nor Elvis were anywhere to be seen. It wasn't quite dark yet, though, so it was highly unlikely that Richard was already asleep. Maybe he was out for a late shopping trip? Her eyes fell onto the cushions and the blanket on the veranda - Richard would not have left that out there if he didn't intend to return fairly soon... Well, she didn't have any plans for tonight, anyway, so she figured she might as well sit a little down by the beach and wait for her boss and his canine companion to return.

She sat down on a big log of driftwood and stared out to the ocean. She loved this time of the day - there was something magical about dusk that she found hard to describe, but to her it was like a comforting blanket, wrapping around her and promising that everything would be alright. She listened to the waves lapping on the beach and let her mind wander... The rustling of the palm fronds, the soft sound of the waves... maybe all this was why Richard hadn't made any real efforts to get away from the little tin box he lived in, no matter how inconvenient it could get in there?

No doubt, it all looked very romantic, but the truth was that it was small, and it could get unbearably hot inside. The flat tin roof didn't give the air any space for circulating, and it could get very stuffy as a result of that. Of course, Richard left the shutters open most of the time so he'd get at least the hint of a whiff of air when he was at home, and he often sat outside on the veranda, but all things considered, the shack wasn't fit as permanent accommodation. It was hardly more than a provisional arrangement - only that he had already stayed here for more than two years.

Camille knew that her mother had tipped the Commissioner off during Richard's absence that if he really wanted to make his DI stay on the island he would have to give him an incentive by providing better housing for him since what was called 'the Inspector's bungalow' was hardly more than a hovel with a manifold of inadequacies - the plumbing was a bit of a nightmare, the wiring wasn't great, either, and then, of course, there was the lack of convenient kitchen appliances... Everything was very basic, and Catherine had reminded the Commissioner that Richard surely was used to better standards and would perhaps not want to put up forever with the mediocre makeshift 'amenities' of his current place.

"You've got to give him credit for having stayed around for so long already, Selwyn," she had said, "despite all the inconveniences of the little bungalow. But mark my words, he's not going to put up with this endlessly. Eventually, a better position in the UK will come up, and he'll grab the chance because he doesn't feel he belongs here. His whole life is on hold while he's out here. If you give him better accommodation, he will start building a nest and will think twice about leaving that behind!"

The Commissioner had tried to brush that to the side, but then Camille had remarked that the Inspector had sometimes commented on the houses they had visited together for their investigations, and he had indeed sounded a bit wistful when he had remarked how nice a kitchen was or how comfy a living room looked... It was unmissable that he had made an effort to make the shack look nice and tidy, and he was very organised, so although there was little space, there was no clutter.

Camille had looked after Harry the lizard while Richard had been in the UK, so she had been at his house on a daily basis, and she had noticed that everything had its place there. The kitchen cabinets were tidy, the ten teatowels were neatly folded and stored away in two identical stacks on a shelf, the tea tins were sorted by size and colour, and there were no drawers full of junk. She hadn't snooped around, of course, but when she had come to feed Harry for the first time, she had had to look for a very sharp knife, and on that occasion, she had looked around, opened a few drawers and seen her general observation confirmed - her boss was clearly not only obsessed with tidiness and accuracy in his professional life, it was part of his personality.

Camille felt that the way he organised his belongings was very efficient, but also a little impersonal. Maybe it had to do with his boarding school upbringing - you had little privacy there, and each little exception to what was the norm would be looked upon with suspicion, your peers would pick on you, and you'd have a harder life as a result... so perhaps Richard had adapted this extremely impersonal style to avoid scrutiny?

Of course, Camille hadn't mentioned any of these thoughts to the Commissioner, but she had pointed out that considering his rank, Richard didn't have a very comfortable life, and that might drive him away for good some time, if an appropriate job opportunity in the UK came up.

Selwyn Patterson had pinched the spot between his eyebrows and heaved a big sigh. He was aware of Inspector Poole's attempts of getting away from Saint Marie… so far, it hadn't worked out for one reason or another, but no matter what, the danger prevailed. Even if Poole agreed to make his assignment 'indefinite', he could still get up and leave – he would just have to allow a little more time for the transfer. It was only too obvious for the Commissioner that the crime solving rate had gone up at a steady pace since Richard's arrival, and he really, really wanted him to stay. He had already tricked him into staying twice – at first by making that 'deal' with Richard's former supervisor when he had initially come to Saint Marie to investigate his predecessor's murder, and then again by not telling him in time that he could re-apply for his old position… - but he couldn't pull this off for a third time, that was out of the question. So, what to do?

Camille had never seen the Commissioner stumped like this before. She hoped that he would come up with a solution for this issue hovering over their heads. She didn't want Richard to leave – though, why exactly… she didn't know.

Or was it more that she knew, but didn't want to admit it?


	7. A Puzzling Evening

Chapter 7 – A Puzzling Evening

Richard sighed. He had called Elvis several times already, but to no avail – some shrubbery seemed to hold the little dog's interest. He was sniffing and snuffling in between piles of driftwood, shrubs and old dead palm fronds, and the seemed reluctant to turn around and go home with him – at least for the moment. Resigning himself to his fate, Richard leant on a palm tree and waited patiently for Elvis to get bored.

After a few minutes, Elvis decided that he actually wasn't all that interested in what was going on in this little patch of wood, leaves and branches and zoomed back to Richard. He orbited the palm tree a couple of times and finally sat down in front of Richard, huffing and puffing. It was exhausting to be a dog, that much was sure…

"You're finished now?" asked his master, bending down to pet him. A little wheeze came from Elvis, and Richard laughed. He knew the little dog still wanted to play a bit, so he picked up a stick and threw it as far as he could. He watched Elvis run off and started to follow him slowly. They repeated this a couple of times until Elvis clearly wasn't interested any more, and they walked back to the house, in companionable silence, only interrupted by the occasional wheezing and grunting from Elvis, and a few remarks and orders from Richard's side. The flashlight was secured in a pocket of his trousers – Richard knew his way around by now, whether it was light or dark.

As they were getting closer to the house, Richard retrieved the wattled rope he had brought and held it out to Elvis – who was tired, but not tired enough to scorn the pleasure of wrestling, and so they engaged in a bit of a mock fight. Elvis barked, yelped and yowled, trying to get hold of the 'prey' and run off with it, and Richard shouted, panted and laughed, trying to uphold ownership.

Richard loved these tussles. Admittedly, it had been decades since he had last done that sort of thing, but although he had felt a little rusty and unsure if he could handle the physicality of these mock fights after so many years without practice, he had realised that it still was fun, and it did him good. He forgot to worry and simply lived in the moment – something he hadn't done in a long, long time…

Nobody who knew him as the stern and serious Detective Inspector on the job would have recognised him as he was playing and fooling around with his little 'fosterling'…

Finally, Richard let go of the rope, and Elvis ran off with it, triumphantly wagging his short tail, bouncing and frisking with pure joy. Richard laughed out loud – and then froze to the spot when he heard a female voice – sounding utterly surprised - saying "I didn't know you could laugh like that…"

* * *

Camille hadn't noticed how time had been ticking away as she had been sitting on the log of driftwood, completely lost in thought. At some point, though, the spell had been broken – she had heard a noise from the distance, and that had interrupted her reverie. Initially, she hadn't quite been able to figure out what the noise was about, but then she realised that it was barking – and a very familiar voice had shouted "Hey, Elvis, you bloody little gangster! Come here!"

She had almost got up then to make her presence noticed, but then Richard and Elvis had got engaged in their tug-of-war, and she had remained where she was, watching them romping around in the light of the moon that had shed its silvery light on the beach. They had been an odd couple in a very unlikely scenario - the little dog, plump and usually rather phlegmatic – and hardly the world's most beautiful creature - and her boss – under normal circumstances definitely the starchiest and most awkward man she had ever seen in her life – and usually rather unremarkable and definitely not an Adonis - were enjoying a mock fight over whatever it was – a stick, a rope or a towel or some other thing. She had been amazed by Richard's nimble movements, but the most remarkable thing had been the jaunty easiness in his tone… and then his laughter.

With a pang, she had realised that she had never heard him laugh before, in over two years of their acquaintance. He had smiled sometimes, even grinned smugly or smirked (very rarely), he had sometimes snorted with amusement (or disdain)… but he had never laughed like this.

Camille had admitted to herself that she liked the sound of it.

And the whole incident had surprised her so much that she had blurted out the very first thing that had come to her mind…

* * *

Richard ran a smoothing hand through his hair, trying to hide his confusion. He hadn't expected Camille to come round to his house so late, and her sudden appearance flustered him a little, and he didn't know how to react. So, he did what he usually did when he was nervous: he blurted out with something stupid.

"You're late," he said.

It sounded like an accusation, and Camille was taken aback. What kind of response was that? Well, if he didn't want her around, then she might as well leave again. What a waste of space he sometimes was. She had thought they were on more friendly terms by now, but this remark was simply offensive.

Not even trying to hide her consternation, she retorted sarcastically "And a very good evening to you, too, sir! I wasn't aware that I'm not welcome here after a certain time – sorry for not respecting your closing time…"

With that, she made ready to turn around and leave, but surprisingly enough, Richard managed to pull himself together, clear his throat and say in a more normal tone "Oh, for heaven's sake… you caught me off guard, Camille. I didn't mean to… Look, I'm sorry… It's just… Is anything the matter? You haven't been here that late before, so I'm simply surprised, and… "

He knew he was talking incoherently, but he had to make sure that she didn't go. He didn't want her to leave – although he wasn't quite sure where that feeling came from. He had plans for tonight, didn't he? And they'd fall through now that she was here, at least partly, depending on how long she would stay.

But somehow, he didn't mind. Elvis didn't mind, either, as it seemed – he had joined them as soon as he had heard Camille's voice and was jumping around her now.

She bent down to pet Elvis, and when she moved to straighten herself again, she had reconsidered and said in her normal voice "No, all is well. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I had wanted to come round earlier, but got tied up at my mother's bar, and when I came here, you had already left. I had no definite plans, and it's such a balmy evening, so I figured I might as well sit here and wait for your return. I would have left in a few minutes if you hadn't reappeared just now…"

Awkwardly, Richard shifted from one foot to the other. What was he supposed to say now? Had she just said that she had wanted to see him for no particular reason? Well, he knew well enough that Camille never needed a particular reason – she was a bit random at times. During his first year in the Caribbean, he had suspected that she had some sort of plan and was deliberately trying to drive him crazy with her behaviour, but that feeling had dissipated. He knew now that while she was focused and fairly organised during working hours, she could be a bit 'willy-nilly' when she was off duty. Maybe she needed the contrast of discipline and 'latitude'.

At a loss, his hand moved up to his collar – and then it hit him: He was not wearing his usual attire. There was no tie, he wore casual trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. And judging from Camille's gaze, she had just noticed that, too. Afraid that she'd say something derisive, he said hastily "Well, as you're still here, why don't you join me for a drink on the veranda?"

Camille's lips curved in a smile – the light of the moon was maybe a little dim, but he could see her face rather clearly – and she gave a brief nod, saying "That sounds like a fun idea. Now that I think about it, I could use a nice cold beer or a glass of wine, if you have a bottle open…"

When they had reached the veranda, Richard asked Camille to sit down while he opened the doors. He rushed inside, fetched a bottle of white wine from the fridge and two glasses and rushed outside again where Camille had already sat down and Elvis had made himself comfortable on his old towel after having emptied his water bowl. Playing always made him thirsty!

Putting everything down on the little table, Richard said with a little embarrassment in his voice "Mind if I go inside and get changed? I'm – er – a bit – er – dishevelled and…"

Camille – who had already filled the glasses – turned her head to look at him and said "Oh… if it's because of me, sir, don't bother. I don't mind – this is not a dinner party. It's your house, and you can wear whatever you like around your home."

She took a closer look at him and then said, seemingly surprised "Is this a short sleeved shirt? I had kind of thought you had just rolled up the sleeves, but… wow, and a pair of chinos! You're loosening up, sir – congratulations!" She sounded playful now.

Richard didn't quite know what to say, so he decided to say nothing. Instead, he just walked around the table and took the seat opposite to her. It was light enough to see each other, and there was a little smile on Camille's face that he couldn't quite figure out.

She had lit the candle that sat in a little lantern on the table, and Richard had also switched on the outdoor lighting – a single bulb hanging down from a wire that most likely wouldn't have passed any safety inspection. Richard had preferred not to look too closely at the wiring in the shack, afraid that he might detect things that he didn't want to know – so far, none of his appliances had ever failed him, but electricity was generally a bit of a 'wonky' affair here on the beach, so he didn't want to jinx it by inspecting things too thoroughly…

However, after a few seconds, he jumped up again and asked nervously "Have you had dinner already? Can I bring you anything? I mean, I haven't… er… I have my sandwich in the fridge… for dinner, you know, but…"

"Oh, you haven't eaten yet – by all means, have your dinner, that's fine with me. I had something at the bar, so I'm not hungry… although I wouldn't say no if you had peanuts or something else to nibble…" Camille's response came with an amused undertone, and Richard felt like an idiot. He had never been a socially adept person, but tonight he was worse than ever. Slightly annoyed with himself – and with her for bringing out the worst in him – he got up and went inside to take his sandwich out of the fridge. He put it on a plate, snatched a napkin from the sideboard and grabbed a bowl with pistachios. These should keep her busy…

And they did. While Richard was munching on his sandwich, Camille opened dozens of pistachios and ate most of them, too. She did leave about a third of them for him, though – as his 'dessert', as she claimed – so that was a least something. And in between opening the pistachios and nibbling on them, she watched him eating, as it seemed to him.

She did nothing of that kind – but he felt extremely self-conscious tonight. What had she meant by saying that she hadn't known he could laugh like that? And why had she remarked on his outfit? Yes, that was exactly why he had tried not to let on that he had bought new clothes – he hadn't wanted the comments…

Now, however, Camille looked up from the pistachio battlefield in front of her and said amicably "You know, I'm sorry that I said what I said… about your outfit and all that. I'm just not used to seeing you in anything but a suit – and maybe your pyjamas."

Richard blushed. She added "And I like this less formal look on you. It suits you, and no doubt it is a lot more comfortable than a long sleeved shirt, a jacket and a tie." She paused, then continued "Mind you, I wonder if this is why you never laugh. I mean, the formal attire you normally wear must be suffocating. There's no room for… for lightness, if you know what I mean…"

Richard huffed. "I wouldn't think that police work should involve lightness and laughter," he responded with a slightly peeved undertone. Camille gave him a provocative look from under her lashes and said "No, perhaps not when it's about finding evidence and all that. But when it comes to interaction with others, both might help…"

He raised his eyebrows. This was an extremely weird conversation, even for their standards. He wasn't quite sure what to think of it. Why had she come round if all she seemed to do was saying strange things? Their recent encounters had been friendly, sometimes there had been harmless banter, and they had talked about a few semi-personal things, but this evening, she was different, and he had no idea what was going on. The way she behaved made him uncomfortable and confused him, and he couldn't figure out why they apparently couldn't be at ease with one another tonight.

He didn't answer – again, because he didn't know what to say – so they sat in silence for a while, each of them listening to Elvis's faint snoring and hanging on to their respective thoughts. Finally, Camille started talking about something that had happened at the station today, and they got into a more coherent conversation from there and relaxed a little. The bowl with pistachios got emptier by the minute – Camille was surprised. She had known that Richard liked sweet stuff, but she hadn't been aware of his affinity for savoury snacks as well. She didn't realise it was mostly nervousness that made him eat…

They were talking about something that Dwayne and Fidel had observed during their market patrol today, and absent-mindedly, Richard reached for another pistachio – just when Camille had put her hand into the bowl as well. For a moment, their fingers touched, then they both winced and pulled back, deliberately avoiding each other's eyes. After a short moment of embarrassed silence, Richard cleared his throat, and they continued their conversation, pretending that nothing had happened…

Not long after that, Camille got up and said "Well, it's time for me to leave. Thanks for having me, and… and I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Richard nodded and got up to see her off – it struck her for a moment that he still did that, although they had known each other for years now. It just never seemed to occur to him that he didn't have to be so 'formal' around her – apparently it had been hammered into him that this was the thing to do, and he had never questioned it.

She turned to go, and Richard's eyes followed her until her slim silhouette disappeared, melting with the darkness.

What an odd evening this had been… Deeply puzzled, he collected the glasses and the bottle and carried them inside. Then he returned to his seat on the veranda, took the bowl with the small remainder of pistachios in one hand and helped himself with the other.

Still bemused, he shook his head – tonight's episode had only confirmed what he had always thought… women were strange and mysterious creatures.


	8. Observations

Chapter 8 - Observations

Richard went to work with some apprehension on the next day, but he needn't have worried, Camille was her usual cheerful self, and whatever had been behind her slightly enigmatic behaviour the night before – it seemed gone. Oh well, maybe he had just been a bit over-sensitive, he figured. Or Camille had been moody – which was much more likely than him being over-sensitive, come to think of it.

He had re-played the events of the evening in his head several times while he had waited for sleep to come to him that night – but he hadn't managed to make rhyme or reason of it all, so eventually he had tried to file it under 'experience' and forget about it.

Of course, he couldn't know that Camille had been just as startled as he had been, and she, too, had been slightly apprehensive about seeing him again at work. She had lay in her bed and wondered about how absurdly their interaction had developed during her visit. Why had she come to see him in the first place? She didn't know any more. Maybe because it had become a bit of a habit – since his return from the UK, she had dropped by more and more often, and since Elvis's arrival, it had been even more fun to visit.

In any event, the whole thing had been very strange. Maybe, if he had been there when she had arrived, the evening would have developed differently. No, not maybe – surely. Because she wouldn't have sat on the driftwood and got lost in thoughts and memories, because she wouldn't have seen him in his casual attire (good grief, this man really had _elbows_ – so far, the most she had seen had been half or his forearm! He was always so anxious about covering himself up! Short sleeves were revolutionary for someone like him who even wore long pyjamas in this climate!), and most of all, because she wouldn't have heard him laughing like that. She had always believed he was unable to laugh altogether. It was not that he didn't have a sense of humour – he did. He just wasn't _cheerful_.

He had sounded so young, so happy, so carefree… he had appeared like a totally different person. He had moved smoothly and easily, not as 'touch-and-go' as he sometimes did at work. It had been obvious that he had felt at peace, in sync with himself.

Camille had never seen him like this, and although she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself at first, she had realised after giving it some thought that she would like to see him like that more often. She had known that over the past year, she had developed a very soft spot for her boss, but she hadn't understood how deep her desire to get to know him – the _real_ Richard Poole, the man behind the functioning Detective Inspector - better had become.

He was utterly private, and it was hard to draw him out, but somehow she had managed to get him into talking recently – however, it wasn't enough. She wanted to know him better.

But she didn't want him to know…

So, when he had entered the police station this morning, she had tried to appear as 'normal' as possible – and apparently, she had succeeded in pretending that nothing had changed. But then again – that was the truth. Nothing had changed… only the way she looked at him…

They were going through a bit of a dull phase once again. It was crazy – sometimes they didn't know where to begin because so much was happening, and at other times, they were basically shifting paper from one side of the desk to the other, without anything interesting to do. Old files weren't really that fascinating, and there were only so many ways to keep themselves busy.

At around noon, Dwayne and Fidel went off for their usual market patrol – upon Richard's request, they took Elvis with them. He'd have some shopping to do during his lunch break, he said, and he'd get it done more quickly without the dog in tow. Dwayne didn't seem too keen, but Fidel just nodded, took the leash from the hook next to the entrance door and beckoned Elvis to come and join them for 'walkies'. Elvis would have preferred to stay with Richard, but resigned himself to going out with the two officers – he knew that if he made a fuss, Richard would make him go, anyway, so it was easier to give in.

Shortly after they had left, Camille made ready to go, too – when things were so slow at the station, it was enough to have one person staying, and she had understood already that Richard wanted to go out later, so she figured she might as well go and see her mother now. Catherine had issues with the Wi-Fi in the bar, and Camille had offered to help her find out what was going wrong – and it would be best to do that around lunch when the bar was open, but not too busy.

Fortunately, the problem could be solved fairly quickly. Camille checked the router and rebooted it, and after that, everything worked fine again. Catherine was fairly illiterate when it came to computer and IT issues, so she had refused to touch the router without Camille being present. She had prepared a light meal for herself and her daughter, and as there was only one regular customer around who was busy drinking his coffee and reading his newspaper, they could sit down without getting disturbed.

The two women had their food, exchanging the occasional remark, but not engaging in an ongoing conversation. Catherine had noticed that Camille had been in a thoughtful mood for a while already, and she wondered what her daughter might be up to. She suspected it had to do with her boss… Camille had been so relieved when Richard had returned from the UK, but she was in constant fear that he might change his mind again and vanish into thin air rather sooner than later.

It seemed odd – these two had initially fought like cat and dog on literally every occasion, and Camille had wished nothing more than his departure. However, over time they had got used to one another, and some kind of odd friendship had developed between them.

Still, Camille made no secret of the fact that she just couldn't understand Richard's behaviour sometimes, and Richard still blew up on her every once in a while. Catherine felt that Richard occasionally was very rude – but she realised that he didn't behave like that intentionally. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt people consciously, he just had no idea how to behave differently. It was a shame – he could be so nice and caring, and the way he was taking care of Elvis was a real eye-opener… this man was kind, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

In any event, Camille's relationship with Richard was tricky, and Catherine didn't quite know what sort of advice she'd give her daughter if she ever turned to her to ask. Not that this was very likely – Camille tended to figure out things on her own, only very rarely she asked for her – Catherine's – opinion…

When they had finished their meal, Camille pushed back her plate and said "That was lovely, Maman. I wish my cooking skills were on a par with yours… we'll have to cook something together some time soon!" Catherine smiled, and when Camille got up and said apologetically "I must zoom off again already… Dwayne and Fidel are on an extended market patrol, and I'm not sure when they'll return… and since the station needs to be 'manned', I really should be going…" Catherine just nodded, got up as well and kissed her daughter on the cheek, saying "See you later, _ma fille_!"

Her eyes followed Camille as she made her way out… not so long ago, Camille couldn't have cared less whether or not Richard had a lunch break. Yes, things had shifted, that much was clear.

* * *

Much to her surprise, Camille was greeted by Richard and Elvis who sat on the bench on the station's veranda, together with Fidel. They were obviously waiting for her. Dwayne leant in the doorway, a slightly guilty look on his face.

Camille shot an enquiring glance in Dwayne's direction, but he just shrugged and rolled his eyes. She didn't have to wonder for long what was going on… Richard said gladly "Oh, that's good that you're back, Camille…" Ignoring her raised eyebrows, he went on "I'd like you to help me with something…"

It turned out that Elvis had been infested by a tick – that must have fallen on him when he was sniffing around in a dubious patch of shrubbery. Before Camille could ask how this could have happened when Elvis was supposed to be on a leash constantly while being out with Dwayne and Fidel, the younger officer explained sheepishly "We didn't really think he could do much harm, so we let him off the leash once we had arrived at the beach, and it seems he has managed to get himself into trouble there…"

Richard pursed his lips and said in a prickly voice "Well, that's what he does when he feels that he'll get away with it because his minders don't care. You can't really blame him, can you… Sniffing about and scanning his surroundings is in his nature. Dogs do that. They aren't rational, they follow their instincts. All the more reason for those who take care of them to be on the watch…"

He sighed, and Fidel awkwardly got up and shifted from one foot to the other, not quite sure what to say. On one hand, he understood Richard's dismay, on the other hand, it seemed a bit out of proportion. It was only a tick, after all.

Turning to Camile, Fidel said "Mind you, the Chief tried to get hold of that tick as soon as we noticed it, but Elvis won't let me hold him so the Chief can remove it. Or rather, he doesn't stay still. He squirms and wriggles, and there's no way you can get hold of that tick under these circumstances, so we thought you might want to give it a try because he trusts you."

"Ah, okay…" Camille dropped her bag and sat down, taking Fidel's place. Richard encouraged Elvis to move over to her lap. The little dog gave a grunt and obediently shifted from the bench to Camille's lap, trampling on her legs for a moment in an attempt to make himself comfortable. Camille was glad that she was wearing her blue capris – that way she didn't feel Elvis's claws too much. She saw the tick sitting on Elvis back – fortunately it had been dumb enough to choose a spot on his lighter fur, not on one of the dark patches. Well, ticks weren't necessarily known for their intelligence, she figured. She had to giggle at that thought, and Richard gave her a slightly suspicious glance, but decided not to make a remark…

"So, how are we going to do this…" Richard pondered how to proceed and then kneeled down in front of the bench, stretching out his hand in Fidel's direction and saying brusquely "forceps, please". Fidel hastened to pass him the required instrument, and Richard bent over Elvis – who was now sitting completely still, nuzzling Camille's arm and wheezing happily in her embrace - to perform the necessary manoeuvre. Camille's hand came round to part Elvis's fur and tauten his skin so Richard could get a better grip on the tick.

Richard understood her intention, but saw that it wouldn't be enough. He hesitated for a moment, shying away from touching her, but then his left hand covered hers to tauten into the other direction. His other hand hovered over the patch for a moment trying to get the right angle for the forceps, and with a swift movement, he removed the offensive bug from Elvis's fur, putting it on a napkin that he had placed on the bench before and squashing it there, uttering a satisfied "Ha!"

With that, he looked up – right into Camille's face. For a moment their eyes locked, the world around them seemed to disappear, and _something_ happened, though neither of them quite understood what was going on.

The spell was broken in an instant – the phone rang, Dwayne rushed in to answer, Fidel moved away – and the Commissioner's voice unexpectedly boomed out, asking "So, what is this about, Inspector?"

Hastily, Richard pulled his hand away and jumped to his feet, Elvis gave a faint snort, wriggling out of Camille's arms as her grip loosened, and took a leap to the floor, then he made an effort to waddle up to the completely gobsmacked Selwyn Patterson who obviously wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation.

Richard – afraid that Elvis might repeat the 'trick' he had performed when he had first met him - stuttered "Commissioner… what a surprise… What can I do for you?" Following the Commissioner's gaze he explained "Sir, this is… this is Elvis. Elvis has been entrusted… into the team's care a little while ago… until his owner will be back from an… an urgent business trip."

"Ah," made Selwyn Patterson, his face an unfathomable enigma.

Much to everyone's relief, he didn't insist on going deeper into the topic. Instead, he explained "I've come to ask you about a complaint that the local supermarket owner has filed a while ago – I wanted to find out what has come out of it, if you don't mind telling me…"

Eager to distract him, Camille jumped up and said "I remember the case – let me find the dossier for you…" With a charming smile, she went inside, and the Commissioner followed her – not without looking back over his shoulder, shooting a slightly cryptic glance into Elvis's direction. Elvis, of course, wasn't in the least impressed – he had immediately realised that this man made Richard nervous, and that meant he had to be watched – but snubbed, nonetheless…

* * *

"Prissy Maynard, you say?" Selwyn Patterson scratched his head and squinted at Catherine. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

Catherine shrugged and said "Well, I can't speak for you, but personally, I remember the name because both Maynard parents – Matilda as well as Lucas – passed away within a couple of months. Matilda had cancer of some kind – I can't recall what it was – and within a few months after her death, Lucas died of a severe stroke. He actually was retired when they moved here, but Lucas took on little jobs like driving goods and people, and he also helped out at various shops, as far as I remember. Gladys, the oldest daughter, had just moved to live on Martinique when Lucas died The Maynards weren't native here – they had moved over from Guadeloupe, as far as I remember. Matilda's father was British, I think, but I'm not entirely sure about that. Whatever, Matilda and Lucas had five children, and except for Prissy, they've all moved away."

The Commissioner had listened to this with keen interest and now said "Oh yes, now that you mention it I think I had to do with him because of the driving jobs he did – he was involved in one or two accidents, though not culpably so, and I interrogated him about the order of events and such… Charlie Hulme was away then, and so I had to step in… Five children, you say? Prissy is the youngest then, I gather?"

"That's right," Catherine confirmed. "She's a little younger than Camille."

Selwyn Patterson raised his eyebrows. "And she was or is involved with Dwayne? Isn't he a bit too old for her?" he asked, incredulity and astonishment in his voice.

Catherine laughed and made a dismissive gesture. The man in front of her rolled his eyes and said "Yes, I know. Dwayne will never be too old for the ladies…" He wiped his brow and continued "Mind, you said she will return soon?"

Camille's mother shrugged once again. Pensively, she said "That's the plan. But if you ask me – the fact that she's been staying with Gladys for quite a while now seems to indicate that she's considering moving as well. She doesn't have roots here, if you know what I mean…"

The Commissioner nodded and took a sip of his drink. "And the dog?" he asked. Catherine wrinkled her nose and conceded that she had no idea. According to Dwayne, Prissy hadn't said anything about moving to Martinique, but if she did, anything was possible. It would depend on where she'd settle, whether she'd have a job outside of the house and other circumstances.

"If she takes Elvis with him," Catherine said with a thoughtful glance, "the Inspector will be heartbroken."

"Hmmm…" was the response. Then, Selwyn Patterson finished his drink and got up. "Thank you, Catherine," he said, "this has been a very interesting and informative conversation – as always… I'm off now. Please don't say a word to Camille about my visit – I don't want anybody to know that I did a little… er… investigating…"

With that, he briefly touched his cap to say goodbye, and in the next moment, he had turned away to go.


	9. Irritation

Chapter 9 - Irritation

With a pondering look on his face, Selwyn Patterson opened the door to his house. "Honey, I'm home," he shouted into the general direction of the living area. His wife came to greet him with a kiss and said a little alarmed "You're early, Selwyn – is anything the matter?"

"I kind of took the rest of the afternoon off," her husband explained. "That means, I have taken a couple of dossiers and files with me as an alibi. The truth is that I want to think about something, and I need peace and quiet for that. Plus a good coffee – and you know that I get none of all that in the office. I have told Norah to stave everyone off until tomorrow – of course, she can call me on my mobile if anything urgent comes up, but I reckon she won't do that if she knows what's good for her… Do I smell cake, by the way?"

Suzanne Patterson gave him an impish smile and replied "I tried a new recipe for a chocolate cake, so if you're up to it…"

A slight nod was the reply, followed by the remark "Cake is just what I need right now. And maybe you could help me with a bit of advice as well… I have an issue going round and round in my head, and I can't find a solution for it…"

* * *

Fortunately, Richard was in blissful ignorance about the Commissioner's thoughts and feelings. He would have been very alarmed if he had known just what exactly kept his supervisor's mind busy. For a few minutes he had been worried about how long the Commissioner had been standing there and how much he might have seen, but then he had pushed the thought to the side. Really, why worry? He had simply removed a tick from Elvis's back, and Camille had helped him. There hadn't been anything remotely indecent about this, and if his heart had skipped a beat when he had looked in Camille's eyes for a brief moment, then the Commissioner surely hand't noticed, and it was entirely his own problem.

Not that it was a _problem_ … not in the original sense of the word… It was just a somewhat unsettling and confusing experience, particularly in the context of the night before when they had had this weird conversation about all sorts of strange things… and of course it had been extremely disconcerting when their hands had touched in the pistachio bowl… though, of course, 'disconcerting' was a strong word… maybe 'dazing' was a more appropriate expression. He had felt a little uncomfortable, but also thrilled in a strange way – and it had been similar when he had touched her hand in the process of getting rid of the tick…

It was maybe more of a problem that they hadn't burnt the tick. They really should have done that as they didn't have rubbing alcohol to drown it in – which would have been Richard's favourite way of disposing of the bug.

Then again – an open fire on the station's front porch didn't sound like a great idea, either…

But before he could have said anything, Fidel had taken up the tweezers, cautiously put the tick on a piece of cardboard, and fixed it with transparent tape, making sure that it was completely covered up and had no room to wriggle or get away – which would have been hard, anyway, as it was dead, but you never knew, did you? Then he had put everything into a small ziploc bag that he had fixed to the side of his monitor so it was in permanent sight and he would see if the tick moved.

Richard had been too confused to react at that time, but later, he worried a little. Burning or drowning them in alcohol still were the best ways to kill ticks, at least as far as he knew… But Fidel had been so self-assured – it obviously wasn't the first time that he had dealt with a tick that way. Richard assumed that he wanted to keep the tick under observation and see if it was _really_ dead in a few days.

In hindsight, he realised that it said a lot about his state of mind that he hadn't interfered when Fidel had done all that…

The Commissioner hadn't really said much about Elvis. He hadn't objected to his presence at the station – Camille had come up with a valid explanation that was a very generous version of the truth, and Selwyn Patterson had merely nodded and remarked that as long as Elvis didn't cause a ruckus and interfere with their duties, there was no reason for him to leave the premises.

Richard suspected that his supervisor hadn't been as unaware about Elvis as he had pretended to be – rumours spread fast on Saint Marie, and it was highly unlikely that something like this would have escaped the Commissioner's attention. But he hadn't made a song and a dance or reprimanded the team for taking in a dog, so there really was no reason to worry.

It had been funny how Elvis hadn't been too impressed with the Commissioner. He had been far more interested in the paper bag that Richard had put next to his desk and sniffed around, trying to topple it and get hold of the the contents. It had been pure luck that this could have been prevented…

When their supervisor had left, Richard determinedly put the bag on the shelf behind his desk, taking it out of Elvis's vision. The pooch was clearly disappointed and wandered off to his blanket, going into a sulk.

Camille asked curiously "What did you buy that Elvis won't leave this bag in peace? A toy? Or some yummy food?" And before he could explain or stop her, she had taken the bag and looked inside.

"Beach slippers," she said incredulously, trying to pull out the box.

Richard snatched the bag from her and put it back on the shelf. A little harshly, he responded "Yes, and if you don't mind, I'd rather keep them up here. And for the records, I do not wish to discuss this with you. Or anybody else, for that matter…"

His Detective Sergeant giggled and said "Oooh-kay… But let me give a guess – Elvis has ruined your house slippers, and you needed something new…"

Richard rolled his eyes. He knew he was defeated, though, and admitted grudgingly "Yeah, if you need to know… he chewed them up the other day when I didn't look. They're mere _fragments_ of slippers now, and I couldn't possibly wear them any more. So I bought these – they'll be useful in the shower as well, I thought, plus I can wear them on the beach when I take him out for a short walk… They're surely more practical than flip-flops, and I heartily dislike those, anyway. Not that it's any of your business, mind you…"

Now it was Camille's turn to roll her eyes. With a slightly miffed undertone, she said "Oh, sorry, I didn't think that the purchase of beach slippers is a secret matter these days. You needn't be so huffy about it!"

"I am not huffy!" Richard's voice got a little louder now. Dwayne looked up, a mildly astonished look in his eyes – it had been a while since Camille and Richard had been in a tiff. Looking over to Fidel, he saw that his colleague was watching the two senior officers, too – his eyebrows were raised, and he looked askance at them. He obviously couldn't understand, either, why they were going off in a fight when they had been a picture of pure harmony just a few minutes before…

There was Camille's voice now… she said "You _are_ huffy. I know what huffy means. Or do you think my English isn't good enough to understand the word? Mind you, my English is better than your French. I even know _other_ words for what you are right now – and if I weren't so polite I'd say you're butt-sore!"

With that, she turned around to sit down at her desk and ignore Richard for the remainder of the day. Why couldn't he be a bit more relaxed? This was no big deal, really, her remark hadn't been provocative – she had just wanted to tease him a little over Elvis and his antics…

She had thought he'd forgotten about their weird conversation last night – and he had been so… gentle… when he had removed the tick from Elvis's back. His hand on hers had been almost tender, and the way he had looked at her when they had accomplished their little 'operation' had been – well, _different_.

She didn't really know why it mattered – they had had arguments before, but somehow it wasn't the same any more…

Richard sighed exasperatedly. He had no idea what he had done that Camille had gone off into a pout. There hadn't been anything unusual or extreme about his behaviour. Oh, _women_ … they could be such a pain in the neck!

Still, that conclusion didn't stop him from looking at her surreptitiously from time to time as they were both working on their respective projects. With some dismay he realised that she didn't bicker or try to argue with him – he knew how to deal with _that_ – but no, she ignored him completely, and he had no idea what kind of reaction she expected from him.

Fidel and Dwayne had also returned to their original tasks – they had understood that Richard and Camille would not engage in a full-blown argument this time, and they were relieved… it was bad enough to work with their senior officers when they were tense, but when they were arguing, it could be really, really awful.

Although he was sure that he hadn't done anything to offend Camille, he figured it wouldn't be good to be in a strife with her, so when he got up to leave the station at five, he asked semi-casually "Are we going for a drink tonight?"

Dwayne beamed, and Fidell nodded happily, pulling out his phone to inform Juliet that he'd be a bit later than usual. But Camille shrugged and said curtly – without looking at Richard - "Not me. I'll stay on and get this project done. I'm nearly finished, and I don't want to start all over again tomorrow. Have fun, anyway! I'll lock up the station when I'm done."

With that, she turned her back on him and continued to tap away, trying to convey a very busy and focused attitude.

The three men looked at one another, at a loss with what to make of this. However, Richard didn't want to back out now, so he grabbed his briefcase, signalled Dwayne and Fidel that he was ready to leave, and made Elvis get up and follow them. He was determined not to show that he was puzzled and perplexed by Camille's behaviour. Who knew what went on in her head – she could be rather stubborn.

Well, right, so be it – he'd have a drink with Fidel and Dwayne, and that would be fun enough. He didn't need her to be around to have fun…

* * *

Some time after Fidel, Dwayne and Richard had left, Camille finally shut down her computer, leant back in her chair and stretched out her long legs. What a strange, strange day this had been… She reflected on everything that had happened, and no matter how she looked at it, she just couldn't understand why things had gone sour between them after the Commissioner had left and she had teased Richard about his most recent purchase. She had teased him before about his wardrobe and other little things – why had he been so stand-offish towards her today, particularly in the afternoon?

Hadn't it meant anything that she had sat down without batting an eyelash when he had asked her to hold Elvis? Hadn't he noticed the magic moment when their eyes had met? Didn't that make any difference to him? Not that she had an idea about what difference it made to her – if she was honest with herself, she couldn't quite figure out what her feelings had been in that moment. She had been confused, that much was sure…

For a few minutes, she brooded about the matter, then she had an epiphany: If _she_ had been confused, maybe _he_ had been confused, too?

Considering that – in all likelihood – he was the less experienced one of them when it came to relationships of any kind, it seemed probable that he had realised _something_ was happening between them, but it bewildered him, and he couldn't quite figure out what it meant or how he felt about it…

Or was it wishful thinking from her side that he had noticed things were shifting between them? Did she actually wish him to notice? Was it more than a passing infatuation?

Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that from her side, it was definitely more. She hadn't been ready to recognise and fully acknowledge her feelings, but the truth was that they ran rather deep. It puzzled her that there were no obvious signs of 'interest' from his side – Camille knew that she was attractive, and usually men didn't hesitate to let her know that they wanted to get to know her better. But with Richard, she just never seemed to get anywhere.

And he just was so horribly awkward. Maybe, he was intimidated by her. Admittedly, she had always enjoyed winding him up and showing him her decisive superiority when it came to people skills. However, Richard was a very capable detective, and he had other skills – skills that she lacked, at least partially. He was so much more systematic, and she couldn't help but admire his accuracy and abilities of deduction. Didn't he know that she held him in high esteem for all that? Didn't he understand that she enjoyed working with him, despite all their arguments and bickering? Didn't he realise that she loved their discussions and appreciated his sense of humour? Was it so difficult to see that she actually _liked_ him – and more than that – in spite (or maybe because) of his quirks and idiosyncrasies?

Well, maybe he just didn't get it. Or maybe he thought she was out of his league, anyway. Whatever it was, Camille realised that nothing would ever happen if she couldn't make him understand that she wasn't only his Detective Sergeant, but also his friend – and more than that, if he gave it a chance.

She'd have to be a bit more patient with him – he surely was insecure. So was she about the whole matter, but she clearly was more socially adept than he was, so it was up to her to try and make amends. Maybe it had been wrong to sulk and pout – she should have gone for that drink with the team.

She had a look at her mobile to check the time. She was too late: It was well past six already, and they'd surely have finished by now. Fidel usually tried to be home by half past six, and since he had to either walk or catch the bus he rarely left the bar after six. Dwayne, of course, might still be there, but Richard was such a creature of habits – he'd be on his way home now, too.

Well, she'd best shut down the station and go home to have some food.

Before locking up the door, she checked the room once more – and her eyes fell on the shelf behind Richard's desk. There sat the bag with his beach slippers – he had been so keen on leaving the premises that he had forgotten them. Oh well, he'll survive – he'd just have to pick them up tomorrow then…

Then, however, Camille stopped to think for a moment. She returned inside and took the bag off the shelf.

* * *

Richard was on his way home, thinking about the past hour at Catherine's bar. It had been good to spend some time with Dwayne and Fidel, but he had missed his Detective Sergeant. Catherine had just arched her eyebrows when Fidel had explained that Camille had wanted to finish a project she had been working on – she knew only too well that things were going slow at the station, so she took the explanation for what it was – a lame excuse. Obviously, Camille didn't want to spend time with her colleagues, so surely something must have happened… and Richard had sensed that Catherine had smelled the rat. Well, truth be told – she hadn't made any efforts to conceal her suspicion…

However, she had been friendly and polite, and she had even made an effort to sit down and ask them about their day. Dwayne had mentioned the Commissioner's visit and expressed his relief that Selwyn Patterson hadn't made a song and a dance about the little dog's presence. Fidel had described a few of Elvis's recent antics and described the incident with the tick, and Catherine had nodded appreciatevely when she had heard how Fidel had dealt with the tick.

Richard had felt a little humbled when Catherine had remarked that it was the safest way to make sure the tick was dead when you couldn't burn them straightaway or kill them in alcohol. Why hadn't he known that? He'd have to check that on the internet some time for future reference…

As he was approaching his house on the beach and watching Elvis wandering about in front of him, sniffing and wheezing, he realised he had forgotten his beach slippers at the station. That was all Camille's fault, he figured… hadn't she teased him about his purchase, he wouldn't have rushed out of the station and forgotten the bag…

Oh well, he would have to make do for tonight… He still had his boat shoes. They were tucked away in a box because he had never worn them, but come to think about it, they might be more comfortable for walking Elvis, anyway, and he could also wear them around the house…

Tonight, he wouldn't wait around for Camille. He knew she wouldn't come, anyway. Not after what had happened today – and considering that her last visit the night before had been outright weird, he was actually glad she wouldn't come.

It was a good thing that he could change into his comfortable weekend clothes rightaway and set off for his walk then…


	10. Confessions

Chapter 10 – Confessions

When Camille arrived at the little shack on the beach, she noticed with a mix of relief and trepidation that the shutters were open – and so was the veranda door. So, Richard and Elvis obviously were home, and she wouldn't have to sit around waiting for them. For a brief moment she had considered just leaving the bag on the veranda in case the house was empty, but somehow that hadn't seemed right… also because she really wanted to make up for having been so irritated earlier on – although she wasn't sure whether or not it would make a difference in the end. Richard was so uptight – it was hard to understand how he was wired.

She remained seated for a few minutes before she finally heaved a sigh and got off the car. It was really pointless to try finding a catchy line that would pave the way for a smooth order of events tonight… She knew that he'd be unwelcoming and stand-offish, and she was well aware of the risk of making it all worse if she said something that embarrassed him or made him feel stupid.

So, with some apprehension, she approached the house, her handbag over her shoulder, the paper bag with the beach slippers on one hand, the car keys in the other…

What she hadn't taken into account in her reflections, though, had been Elvis. Like dogs usually do, he had a fine sense of hearing, and he had noticed her arrival already – while Richard was in the bathroom, changing into something comfortable, Elvis had pricked his ears when he had heard the Rover stopping on the beach, and when Camille came up to the bungalow, the mutt jumped up and stormed down the veranda to greet her. He was hoping for some cuddling – today he had got ignored quite a bit, and he was keen on getting this rectified.

So when Richard came out of his shack to find out what the ruckus was about, he found Camille kneeling in the sand, cuddling and petting Elvis – who was yapping, wheezing and trying to lick her hands while she was laughing and throwing back her hair as he was now making an attempt at licking her face – in vain, but he kept trying.

Eventually, she got up – and her eyes fell on Richard who was standing on the veranda, with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. He was not happy at all with Elvis's enthusiastic behaviour, but well, who could blame him… he hadn't had a great day, all things considered, and it was no surprise that he tried to find compensation for being treated like crap all day long. Richard knew only too well that he had taken his frustrations out on the little dog by ignoring him most of the afternoon – and he felt guilty for doing so…

What was he supposed to say or do now? Why had Camille come at all?

She saw the apprehension – or was it hostility? - in his gaze and cleared her throat, holding out the bag in her hand. "Here," she said, "you forgot these, and I figured… I figured you might need them tonight…"

It was lame, she was well aware of that. But it broke the ice, and although she wasn't quite sure, she had the impression that he seemed relieved she had spoken first.

He nodded and said "Thank you." He shifted from one foot to the other and racked his brain, trying to find something to say that wouldn't sound too stupid and could help to ease the tension without him losing face.

After a few moments of awkward silence he said a little gruffly "I was… I was going to take Elvis for his evening walk. Would you… maybe… want to come along?"

She had come up the steps to the veranda in the meantime. Now, she smiled a little nervously and then said warmly "That would be fun, yes… I have spent most of the day sitting, so it would be good to get a little exercise… but maybe you want to take these inside first?"

A few minutes later, they strolled along the beach together, cautiously avoiding getting too close too each other.

Elvis obviously felt that he had to work off a surplus of energy – he was running ahead of them (as fast as he could with his considerably short legs), returning time and again to run around them in circles, scampering away again to explore something that had piqued his interest, jumping up and down to remind Richard of throwing sticks for him, and finally darting off to the water to get his feet wet and play with the surf.

A log of driftwood was sitting there on the beach, and Richard established himself on it with a sigh, watching Elvis 'chasing' the surf. Camille stood for a moment, then she sat down beside him, making sure there was some space between them.

They hadn't spoken much – the truth was that neither of them knew what to say. Their mutual unease was tangible - they both felt they were moving on new ground somehow… the happenings of last night and today had made it obvious that things were shifting between them, and neither of them knew how to deal with this situation.

Finally, Richard broke the silence and said, pointing to Elvis "I don't know where he takes the energy – he's had a long day, and still he's full of vim and vigour…"

Camille smiled and responded matter-of-factly "Well, he has spent a great deal of the afternoon snoring on his blanket, so he can't be all that tired." Then, as an afterthought she added "And he's really just a teenager, if you consider it."

Richard snorted and said "That's an interesting way to look at it, but yes, of course that's right…" Then he shouted "Oh, come on, Elvis – do _not_ go into the water!"

Elvis didn't listen at first, and so Richard got up and marched in Elvis's direction –and the little dog immediately rushed out of the surf and buzzed off to explore a few boulders sitting around on the beach, giving Richard a cheeky sideways glance.

As Richard came back to sit down again next to Camille, she said a little provocatively "See – he's a teenager. Trying to see how far he can go without having to face consequences…"

With raised eyebrows, Richard replied "Yes, you've got a point there. Although I can't say I know that behaviour all that much from my own experience… but it does seem quite common for that age range…"

Camille looked at his profile and asked "You didn't do that as a teenager?"

Richard shook his head. "I can't remember. Actually, I don't even remember having been a teenager." He turned his head to look at her and said deadpan "I think I've always been an adult."

Camille couldn't help but laugh. This was such a typical remark for him. However, she sobered quickly and asked again "No rebellions? No 'I know better than you'? No trying out forbidden things with your friends?"

He answered with a shake of his head and said casually "Not really, no. Well, I did think I knew better, but I didn't try out any forbidden things with friends."

He paused, then he added almost against his will "I had no friends, you know. I wasn't one of the cool kids."

Silence.

He looked down on his hands and said a little sulkily "I don't expect you to understand what that is like. I suppose you were cool, and your peers at school scrambled to get closer to you…"

When Camille didn't respond, he turned to look at her and found her staring at him incredulously. Then she laughed a little bitterly and asked "And what makes you think that I was so popular?"

"Well… weren't you?" he stuttered, and with some bafflement he recognised that she was shaking her head.

"But…" He didn't get any further.

She sighed and cut him off by saying "You think I must have been one of the cool kids because I come across as self-confident and 'savvy'… Well, let me tell you that I haven't always been like that."

He waited, and finally she went on "You know, I've always been fairly headstrong, that's true, and I've always had a bit of a rebellious streak. But that doesn't necessarily make you popular."

She hadn't intended to tell him about all this – not tonight, at least – but perhaps it would be a good thing if he realised that she hadn't always had it easy… He seemed to think that everyone was riding the bus, but he was the only one who had to pay… well, that wasn't true, and maybe it would put things into perspective for him if she gave him an idea of what life had been like for her as a teen.

So, after another pause, she explained "To be fair, at the end of my school days, I had a nice group of friends, but before that, I was quite a loner. I thought I knew better than anyone – in hindsight, I think I was very judgemental and absolute in my opinions. Well, many young people are like that, so I don't think I fell out of the norm, but still… it must have been hard for my mother sometimes to bear with my moods and my general attitude. I do know it was hard for my teachers. I didn't want to fit in and follow the rules, I was defiant, and I was sulky. My marks left a lot to be desired for a while because I rather wagged school and went swimming than sit in class and learn about whatever topic. I was anything but a model student. The nuns – you know I attended a school that's run by nuns - regularly gave me extra essays to write – as a punishment, and I used them for making a big pseudo-intellectual statement about life and the universe! – and pretty much everyone thought I was a hopeless case. My class mates were afraid of being seen with me because their parents told them to avoid me. I meant trouble. I was quite lonely."

Richard looked at her, incredulously. Never had he thought she'd have a skeleton like this in her closet. It didn't seem to fit the picture of the self-assured, confident woman that he had always had of her.

Suddenly, he realised that maybe she expected him to say something, so he croaked "And what… I mean how…"

She hadn't looked at him, but now she turned her head and smiled. "Sister Mary Frances was the only one who didn't believe I was a rotten apple. She never gave up on me. When I was 14 and already had a bit of a reputation, she approached me and 'asked' me to participate in the 'big buddy programme' that the school had recently introduced. I was too old already… the norm was that each new student got matched up with an older student of 11 or 12 who was then responsible for the newbie to a certain extent. You had to show your little 'brother' or 'sister' around, you had to make sure they were comfortable, you had to help them through whatever hiccup that could occur… it's a pretty good idea. Well, as I said, I was actually too old, and all newbies had been matched up, anyway. Not that I really wanted to be a 'big buddy'– it all sounded like nonsense to me. I had found my way alone, so others could do the same, I figured. But around All Saints' Day that year, in the middle of the new school year, a new girl was enrolled at my school… and Sister Mary Frances ordered me to become her 'big sister'… I had no choice…"

She smiled now, lost in memories. After a little while she concluded "And that's how I met Aimee."

Richard gave a faint "Ah…"

He had often wondered how Camille and Aimee could be school friends when Aimee had been clearly younger than his Detective Sergeant. Aimee had been 24 when she had been murdered, and Camille obviously was over 30 already, so…

Elvis had got bored from exploring the boulders in the meantime and returned to the log of driftwood, but instead of engaging in playing with him, Richard just took up a stick and threw it, absent-mindedly. Elvis decided to humour him and zoomed off, and Richard turned to Camille and asked "And this is how you became friends?"

"Well, not rightaway. There was the age difference, of course, and I think I scared her out of her wits at first, but once I had found my feet in the situation, we got on quite well. Well, she was a first grader, and she was in awe of me for some time, but eventually, we became more like sisters. Perhaps because she was all by herself and needed someone to lean on – her mother had died in a car crash, and Aimee had been taken to the orphanage that's also run by the church. Of course, Sister Mary Frances had got it all right… She had said that our Mother Superior had claimed I wasn't mature enough for acting as a 'mentor', and naturally, that annoyed me because it implied that I was less mature than the 12 year olds who usually were the 'big buddies'. So, of course, I did my best to prove her wrong and justify Sister Mary Frances's faith in me."

She grinned as she continued "It was hard work, you know. I had to shake off my 'I don't care' attitude and turn into a role model for Aimee. I had to give her advice, show her how to deal with difficult situations, teach her to stand up for herself… all that. It wouldn't have been credible if I had stuck with my former behaviour… And as I tried to get on better with the people around me so Aimee wouldn't think I was preaching water and drinking wine, if you know what I mean, I learnt how to compromise, how to understand others and see their point of view… it was a very valuable lesson. Those years really shaped me, I must admit."

Richard watched Elvis who was apparently trying to play hopscotch on the beach – he was jumping up and down and running around in a higgledy-piggledy manner, chasing his own short tail – and said thoughtfully "So this is why you were so close… it must have been like you lost a sister when she died…" He turned to her and remarked a little reproachfully "Why didn't you tell me back then?"

She shrugged and replied "You didn't ask."

The look on his face spoke volumes. She felt a little embarrassed and said relentingly "I know. I'm sorry. I should have mentioned it. It must have seemed… out of proportion to you. I mean, sure, we all grieve when we lose a friend, but well… my reaction was fairly strong."

She sighed and continued "I just didn't think you'd understand. And when we… when _you_ had solved the case, I felt… I felt guilty… and I didn't want to talk about it any more. I wanted to keep all the grief along with the guilt to myself."

Elvis had scuttled up to them in the meantime and tried to jump on Camille's lap, but he wasn't nimble enough, so he just sat there, panting and trying to gain her attention. She reached out to pet him, and he moved closer.

Richard's voice sounded startled when he asked "Why on earth would you feel guilty?"

Camille was silent for a while. Then she drew in a deep breath and said "I felt I had failed her. I felt that I hadn't… that I hadn't been there for her. I felt that I hadn't realised that she wanted this job in Miami so badly that she was ready to do something illegal and… and blackmail someone. I didn't know that she had the criminal energy for that, and I felt that… Oh, I know, it sounds pathetic, but… I felt that it would have been _my_ task to make her understand that there are always honourable ways and that you should rather wait and do the right thing than be so keen on something that you end up doing something illegal and disgraceful… Once your integrity is gone, you'll do it again and again and again because – let's face it, you got away with it once, so you'll get away with it again… And so she took that path – and it killed her because she was so naïve to think that the man she was trying to blackmail would not lash out and hit back. I should have listened better and understood that something wasn't quite right, that she couldn't possibly break that contract without having to pay a fine… and all that…"

Richard didn't quite know what to say. He had never expected a confession like that. In hindsight, this explained a lot… He realised that Camille still was guilt stricken – she tried not to think about it, but it was clear that these thoughts and feelings came back to haunt her regularly. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to put them into words like that – it was obvious that she had spent quite a bit of time on dwelling and reflecting on them.

"Oh well," Camille said eventually, "I suppose there's nothing I could do about it any more."

"No, there isn't," Richard conceded. Then he said a little abruptly "Let's go back to my house. We can… we can sit on the veranda and talk a little more, if you… if you like…"


	11. Advice and Plans

Chapter 11 – Advice and Plans

They didn't talk much on their way back to the shack. Camille wasn't quite sure if it had been a good idea to tell him all these things, but done was done, and of course, she knew he'd keep it to himself. If nothing else, it had done her good to confide in _someone._ She hadn't even talked about it in depth with her mother, and for months she had carried the feeling of guilt with her, like a millstone around her neck, along with her grief.

It was getting darker now, but Richard was used to finding his way on the beach, and Camille didn't mind, either. When they reached the little bungalow, Richard brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses and lit a citronella candle, and Camille sat down, expecting him to join her at the other side of the table. But instead of taking a seat in the wicker chair, he pushed that to the side and pulled up some kind of trunk that he sat down on. It was a blanket box, she realised – it was made of that wicker-like plastic stuff that was so popular now, and it seemed quite sturdy.

Elvis came up to him, dragging the inevitable towel behind him, and Richard helped him up, spreading the towel on his thighs. With a grunt, the dog got comfortable on Richard's legs. "Oh, crumbs," Richard muttered, realising that he had forgotten something, and then addressed Camille "Could you do me a favour, Camille – there's a brush on the shelf inside… could you get that for me?"

Camille did as he asked her, and much to her surprise, Richard began brushing Elvis's coat with steady rhythmic movements. Elvis obviously loved it – he made little appreciative noises and clearly relaxed completely in this position. Richard looked up and saw the amazement in her eyes. A little embarrassed, he explained "I sometimes do that in the evenings. I think it helps to keep his coat clean – it's more hygienic, and bugs and bad odour won't have a chance that way. Also… also, he sheds, you know, and the shack is a breeding station for dustbunnies, anyway, so I reckon it's better if the loose hair doesn't make it inside at all…"

And he continued to brush Elvis's fur… Camille watched him as they sat in silence. His moving hands had something hypnotic, and she was feeling a little woozy from the combination of watching him and drinking wine. One glass wouldn't be a problem, she could still drive then… or she'd leave the Rover to him and walk home. She just shouldn't have more than one glass.

She was lost in thought, and when he suddenly spoke up again, she was almost startled.

"Mind you, Camille… I was wondering… can I ask what were you doing when you were 24?"

"Let me think," she answered lazily, not quite sure where he was heading with his question. She calculated silently and then went on to say "I was in Paris then. I had finished my training, but I didn't have my degree in psychology yet… I was getting ready for undercover work, I think… And you?"

"I had just finished my history degree," he said, "and I had decided to join the police then… not quite what I had had in mind originally, but it seemed to be a worthwhile career with a future, and I think now that I also did it to please my father. I wouldn't have joined if I had thought it was complete rubbish, but the decision seemed easier because I knew he'd approve."

He frowned for a moment.

"At least I suppose he approved… Not that he ever said so. But tell me, if anyone had told you that undercover work would be dangerous, would you have listened and changed your mind?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," she answered after some reflecting. "Would you have changed your mind about joining the police if anybody had told you to consider doing something else?"

He shook his head.

After a pause, he continued "See, what I'm trying to say is… we all make our own decisions, and at the end of the day we are responsible for them. Aimee made her own decisions, too. You weren't responsible for her criminal energy or her concept of the truth."

Camille sat up in her chair and put the wine glass that she had been swirling around back on the table. "How do you mean?" she demanded.

"Well, I mean that she was a grown-up person, responsible for her life and her decisions. She chose not to wait for another chance to obtain a contract in Miami. She decided that now was the time to move on. She wanted it so badly that she sacrificed everything else for this idea and went down a path that she _knew_ wasn't right. You can't tell me she wasn't aware of it…"

Camille nodded reluctantly, but then she tossed in "But I could have stopped her… I should have made an effort…"

Richard shook his head and said "You had no idea. You may have been gullible by not questioning the whole thing… but I'm sure Aimee made it all look perfectly fine, and obviously, she thought her plan would work out, so why tell you more than just the good stuff? She knew you wouldn't approve of her way to handle the situation. She knew you would have tried to talk her out of it, but she just wanted it too much. It was her decision, and she was responsible for it. I'm not saying it's her fault that she got killed – please don't get me wrong. She took a risk she couldn't quite fathom, she didn't realise that things could go so wrong. You could have pointed it out, but would she have listened? You will never know. But I want you to see that you are _not_ responsible, and you are _not_ guilty. Please don't beat yourself up over it. It's not only that you cannot change the past and have to accept what has happened… you have to free yourself from the concept of having had any chance to take influence at that point. You hadn't seen Aimee in quite a while, and she had grown into her own person while you had been away... She was exposed to all sorts of influences during your absence. I'm sure the nuns did their best, and you were her mentor when you were younger, but eventually, she had to lead her own life, and you weren't in charge of her."

His voice had become somewhat urgent. He was still brushing Elvis's coat, and he didn't look at her, but the way he had spoken wasn't aloof or 'en passant'. It was sympathetic and powerful in a strange way.

"Aimee was your friend," he said now, "and she loved you dearly. Do you think she would want you to make yourself sick over what happened? I doubt that… She was a grown up woman, and she lived her own life, and she'd want you to move on and live your own life, too."

Camille ran a hand through her hair. She hadn't looked at it from that angle. He had a point, though. Still, she wasn't quite convinced.

Richard felt that she was still in doubt, and he sighed. "There's nothing I can say or do to make you _feel_ what I'm trying to say," he said now, "but please, Camille, give it some thought. We're all responsible for ourselves. No matter how close a friendship is – at the end of the day, we are our own persons, so-to-speak, and we must do what we think is right for us."

She nodded and sighed. "You may be right…"

He put the brush to the side now, but kept his hand on Elvis's flank, softly ruffling the fur with his fingers. "Mind you," he mused "I think that Aimee was very fortunate to have you as her friend and mentor. You… you are very loyal, and everyone who has won your respect and friendship can only be called an extremely lucky person…."

She turned her head to look at him in the semi-darkness, and a little smile curved her lips as she responded "Thank you. That's by far the nicest thing you have ever said to me. And in that context… I apologise for having been so rotten to you this afternoon. I shouldn't have been so… so stroppy. I over-reacted for whatever reason – I can't even say what bugged me so much that I had a go at you and then basically spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring you."

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Oh well," he said, clearly a little embarrassed, "you've made up for it, so don't worry. But… While we're at it, I… I'm sorry that I was so…"

He was looking for the right word, then he saw her smiling broadly, and suspiciously, he asked "What?"

She giggled now and said "I think the word you're looking for is 'annoying', huh?"

"Really, Camille – I wouldn't go _that_ far…" he protested, suppressing a smile.

"Oh, whatever!" She put the wineglass back on the table and said "Apology accepted. I'd better go now, sir. I'm sorry I've kept you so long, but I'm glad we talked. You… you have helped me to see things under a different aspect, and that's good. And… I appreciate your efforts to make me feel better. I don't know why you're doing that when I've been quite awful to you on many occasions, but I really appreciate it…"

He gave her a brief nod and said "You're not _always_ awful. And… and you've done things for me, too. But anyway, I'll see you tomorrow then, I suppose."

She had taken a few steps when she heard his voice again "You know, Camille, would you terribly mind if I'd ask you not to call me 'sir' around here? It makes me feel so… 'official', if you know what I mean…"

What he actually meant was 'old', but he couldn't possibly say that.

She turned around. In the twilight, she couldn't quite see his face, but his voice sounded thoughtful, yet a little embarrassed. She tilted her head to one side and asked "So, what would you prefer me to call you then? When I called you by your first name on one occasion, you said it's 'Detective Inspector Poole' for me, so…"

His lips twitched – he remembered that…

"Well, you can stick with that in public," he said now. Then he added "But around here, I'm not your boss, and I like to believe that my _friends_ would call me 'Richard', don't you think so?"

She nodded and replied "Very well… good night then, _Richard_ …"

He couldn't see the expression on her face, but the way she said his name made his skin tingle. He watched her going back to the Rover, and a minute later she was gone…

* * *

So, _friends_. That's what they were, weren't they? On the way home, Camille had to smile at the memory of their final exchange. He was getting more mellow, definitely.

Despite her initial doubts and worries about the visit, everything had gone well. The awkwardness of the night before and the irritation of today had been gone, and she had actually felt quite comfortable with him. It had done her good to talk about her feelings of guilt after Aimee's death. As unlikely as it had seemed, he had found the right words to make her feel better. Given his usual clumsiness and lack of people skills, it was really surprising that he had been able to convey so much sympathy and understanding…

And it had been endearing how he had brushed and caressed Elvis. His movements had been gentle, and he had literally stroked him to sleep – the pooch had been snoring faintly when Camille had left.

Once again, she wondered how Richard would cope with Prissy's return and Elvis's 'departure'. She was well aware of his attachment to the dog, and she couldn't help but ask herself if he didn't over-estimate his resilience and ability to 'let go'.

* * *

Selwyn Patterson let out a deep sigh as he put his spoon down and dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He had spent a most agreeable afternoon at home – Suzanne had brought him cake, he had rested and taken a long nap on the couch, and he had made several phonecalls. And dinner had been delicious.

Still, he was a little restless because he hadn't found a solution for his problem.

His wife looked at him from under her lashes and finally asked "So, what is it, Selwyn? You said you have something going round in your head and can't quite find a solution for that issue – will you tell me about it, or do you think it's none of my business after all?"

He sighed again and then wrinkled his nose, saying "I'm not sure if you can help, but it might do me good to talk about it, nevertheless. Sometimes it helps to just formulate one's thoughts…"

Leaning back, he smiled at his wife and started to give her the background information of what was bothering him. As she had expected, it had to do with the Honoré Police Station, or more precisely, with Detective Inspector Poole and his attempts to get a transfer back to the UK. She knew that Poole had agreed to make his assignment 'permanent', but that didn't mean he'd stop applying for new positions if they were available. He had sent out a few applications a couple of months ago – not as many as before, but he obviously still checked the Met's website for job opportunities.

The Commissioner didn't want to lose him, and he explained to his wife how Catherine had pointed out that maybe he should look out for better accommodation so the Inspector would make himself more at home.

Suzanne nodded and interjected "I think this is a good idea, Selwyn. I haven't been to that shack for quite a while now – the last time I visited was when Inspector Hulme was still there, and the bungalow was a hovel then – which certainly has to do with Hulme's tendency to create a chaos wherever he went. I know that everyone who has to do with Inspector Poole says that he is tidy, accurate and obsessed with hygiene, so I'm sure the house looks totally different now, but still – the plumbing is atrocious, it gets awfully hot under that tin roof, and while the Inspector isn't known for hoarding lots and lots of things, I imagine that he's not very impressed with the lack of storage. He must feel like he's staying in a hostel of some kind, or like he's in transit. The house is nice enough for a holiday stay, but it's hardly good enough for a more permanent arrangement…"

"Hm," made her husband. Then he went on "Another thing is that he has taken 'custody' of a little dog… "

And he reiterated how Elvis had ended up in Richard's care and how the two of them obviously got on like a house on fire.

Mrs Patterson exclaimed "But that's good, isn't it! It's a commitment, I'd say, and I'm sure he'd never abandon the dog – from what you say, he's very attached to him!"

The Commissioner sighed and said "See, but this is the problem – it's obviously not his dog, and eventually, Prissy Maynard – who's the owner – will come back from Martinique. Catherine thinks she might not want to stay on Saint Marie, anyway, because she's got no job around here, and her entire family lives elsewhere… she has this sister on Martinique, another one on Jamaica, and her two brothers live in the US and on Dominica, respectively. So… if she leaves, she'll take Elvis with her, and even if she doesn't, she'll want to have Elvis around, and the Inspector inevitably will have to give up on him. I wouldn't say Poole is an overly emotional man, but he might find it difficult to cope with that, and if the job opportunity that my contact at the Met informed me about that is basically ideal for him comes up at the right time, he will apply and go away because nothing will keep him here. I don't think he tends to over-react, but you never know, and I don't want to take any chances. I know he doesn't trust me – and in all honesty, I can't even blame him… I know well enough that I've tricked him into staying here… so whatever I do, it has to be done secretly and without attracting attention. I have to keep a low profile, and whatever plan I come up with, it has to be fail-safe…"

"I see," said Suzanne. She rubbed her forehead and put her imaginary thinking cap on. Her husband's eyes rested on her, expectantly, yet trying not to be too hopeful.

"I have an idea," she finally said, leaning forward and smiling at him…


	12. Developments

Chapter 12 - Developments

Although he wasn't entirely convinced, the Commissioner had to admit that his wife's idea had a few good points. He still was a little hesitant to get the ball rolling – but as it can sometimes happen, the decision was made for him. An unexpected conversation with the owner of Richard's shack two days later made him reconsider. He had to act, and it had to happen soon.

So, he picked up the phone to make that much dreaded call…

He loved Suzanne, and he appreciated her family, but her cousin Edna, who was a blathering chatterbox if he had ever encountered one, and her husband Jimbo – who had a bit of a shady air around him - could be a real pain in the neck. Usually, he avoided them whenever he could, and if he had to see them for family gatherings, he always made sure to sit far away from them.

But he had no choice this time around but to grasp the nettle and give them a ring – they were the potential key to his success. Suzanne had reminded him of something – or rather, she had given him the background information on something that Jimbo had been pestering them with for a while now and that he had quietly ignored and refused to take care of because he had been worried he'd never have peace any more in his entire life.

However, under the circumstances given, he was ready to give it a try, and with some luck, he might get what he wanted – and they'd even be grateful for his offer.

When he hung up half an hour later, he closed his eyes and heaved a big sigh of relief. Suzanne – who had been present during the conversation and hence had heard what he had said – looked at him, apprehension and curiosity in her face. When her husband didn't say anything, she asked impatiently "So?"

Selwyn Patterson opened his eyes again and nodded, satisfaction in his gaze. "He suggested we'll get together tomorrow at around half past five to have a look at it. You surely gathered from what I said that he wanted to haggle, but I really have no leeway – or rather, I'd prefer to have a little 'cushion', if you know what I mean. Eventually, he agreed, but I expect to have some expenses for getting things in order. I mean, there is a reason why they had so many issues with it. It's not only their incompetence to deal with all the paperwork, it's also a certain slackness about stuff being up-to-date and all that. We'll see. Do you want to come around, too? I'd really appreciate that – you have an eye for things that I would miss, and while I don't want to be disrespectful towards Jimbo and Edna… you know what they're like…"

Mrs Patterson laughed and said with a comforting undertone "I know, Selwyn, I know. I'll come with you – I can meet you at the Government House, and we'll take it from there. You know where it is, don't you? If not, I can give you directions – we used to play on that beach when we were kids, and I've been back a couple of times to help Edna with one thing or another…"

The Commissioner rubbed his hands and replied "Thank you. I'm glad that you're coming, too. I'd hate being completely and utterly at their mercy. You know they can talk everybody's head off – and I'd be so keen on getting away from them that I'd overlook all sorts of details…"

Not for the first time, Selwyn Patterson congratulated himself for having married such an intelligent and resourceful woman. Suzanne really was a gem. Over the years, she had often helped him out in situations where he just couldn't find a practicable solution, and he hoped that this time, it would be no different.

She hadn't only come up with a brilliant idea regarding Inspector Poole's housing situation, but she had also made a couple of suggestions regarding Elvis.

"Depending on what Prissy Maynard says, I'm sure we can come to an agreement," she had said in the end. "Matilda was a devoted member of the church's book group, and while I wouldn't say we were _friends_ , we certainly were _friendly_ ," she had explained. "I'm optimistic that I can find a way to convince her of our plan – or whatever it is at the moment."

* * *

The next few days at the station were just as uneventful as the previous ones – and they all hated it. There were a few minor incidents, like theft or pick-pocketing in the market area, the occasional brawl and a couple of complaints about nighttime disturbances, but other than that – nothing happened.

Richard was getting more and more restless with the situation. He wanted to solve crimes, not push pens or shift paper from one side of the desk to the other. Out of boredom, he checked the Met's website for job opportunities, but there wasn't anything interesting.

When he had moved on to reading the news section about promotions and general changes, he almost felt a little homesick – then he heard Elvis coughing at his feet, and he realised that he couldn't go anywhere at the moment, anyway.

His gaze fell on the little dog who had rolled up on his leopard blankie, making sniffling and wheezing noises from time to time. Elvis had clearly lost some weight since he had moved in with him, Richard realised – and so had he. His trousers were looser around the waist, and Elvis – who would clearly always be a chubby little fellow – had become a little leaner. That surely was more healthy for him, Richard mused… Elvis had definitely been overweight when he had first met him. Although he still got treats regularly, the regular long walks were doing him good, and the playing and larking were showing an effect, too.

Dwayne had mentioned that Prissy hadn't really taken out Elvis all that much. "You know, she basically just took him for walks in town," he had explained, "and he played in the garden of her friend's house, as she told me, but he always did so on his own, and I think he basically got bored. He looks so much better now, Chief!"

Also, his attempts at teaching Elvis some discipline had been successful – to a certain extent. Elvis had learnt the basics when he had lived with the Robinsons, but at the shelter, there hadn't been time for intense obedience work, and Prissy apparently wasn't very disciplined herself, from what Dwayne had said, so it wasn't a surprise that Elvis had become a little slack and unruly. And of course, Camille was right – he was just a teenager, so it was normal that he had the proverbial ants in his pants and didn't pay much heed to orders and commands.

Richard actually was quite proud of himself. Sometimes, he had been frustrated with Elvis's lack of interest in obedience, but overall, things had turned out quite well. Maybe, he'd take a class with him some time… they both could benefit from that.

When he had come to that point in his musings, he suddenly realised with a pang that he shouldn't make plans. Prissy had been gone for much longer than anticipated, but that didn't mean she'd never return.

Elvis wasn't his – he'd have to be careful not to forget this.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Commissioner had made a decision, and since the owner of the plot of land that Richard's shack was on had made it clear that he couldn't give him more than four weeks, he had started doing what he was best at – bossing others around.

The meeting with Jimbo and Edna had gone surprisingly well – although his ears were literally bleeding afterwards and he had taken Suzanne out for dinner to compensate for the hardship they both had endured during the get-together. When the had arrived back home, Selwyn Patterson had called Catherine and asked her for a few recommendations regarding what he called his 'new project', and Catherine also had to promise that she'd inform him as soon as she got wind of Prissy's return.

Over the next couple of days, a constant stream of contractors who owed the Commissioner a favour – or two - was trickling in and out of the Government House. The stream then formed into a caravan of vehicles, all leaving Honoré into the same direction. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, and apart from Richard, everyone in the team got curious.

Richard had stopped making assumptions or speculating about the Commissioner and his motives for literally everything – he knew it wasn't good for him to show too much of an interest. Regarding his transfer to Saint Marie, he had made peace with Selwyn Patterson, but he preferred not to know too much about possible schemes and projects – he had learnt the hard way that his supervisor wasn't keen on him sticking his nose into what the Commissioner clearly classifed as none of his business… So, he pretty much ignored what was happening.

Fidel and Dwayne heard rumours, but nobody said anything definite to them, and Camille was just as clueless as they were – whenever they tried to find out what was going on, they met a wall of vagueness.

Once, Fidel described it like fighting against a wall of eggboxes or trying to stay afloat in an ocean of blowballs – which made Dwayne look at him suspiciously and ask him if he had read any poetry recently. That, of course, made Camille laugh, and they ended up talking about other things. They'd find out soon enough, they figured.

Catherine certainly had an idea about what was going on, but the Commissioner – without going into detail about what he was having done - had asked her to be quiet. So there was no information from that side, either.

The team still gathered at La Kaz from time to time, and Catherine observed how strong the bond between Richard and Elvis had become. She didn't know what Selwyn Patterson might plan in regard to the little dog, but she hoped Richard would be able to keep him – and if not, that he wouldn't have to suffer too much when Prissy came back…

For the moment, all seemed to go fine.

* * *

It was Thursday and Camille's day off, and she was rummaging around in her mother's pantry. For a long time, she had promised to help her clearing out the shelves and getting it all sorted neatly, but she had always avoided it and found excuses. However, today was the day… She had spent the morning on getting paperwork done, cleaning her flat and taking care of laundry, but once that had been finished, she had finally tackled the job, and she was making good progress.

She let her thoughts wander, and inevitably, they ended up at how her relationship with Richard had changed.

Over the past two weeks, since her memorable visit at his house, she had dropped by at his place several times, and although they had bickered from time to time, the visits had overall gone quite well. She had already known before Elvis's arrival that Richard was a kind man – and that he hid a soft heart beneath his sometimes gruff demeanour. But the way he treated Elvis brought it out even more – he obviously loved spending time with his new companion, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the little dog.

She was planning to visit tonight again – hopefully in time for going for a walk with Richard and Elvis. That always was so much fun… She smiled at the memory of some of the conversations they had recently had during their strolls on the beach. They still were awkward sometimes because of his reservedness, but generally, he had loosened up a bit.

On one occasion, she had complimented him on his new attire and admitted jokingly that she had been completely shocked by the sight of him when she had come by that one evening and waited for them in the dark.

"You know, it occurred to me that I didn't even know you had elbows," she had said. He had passed her an incredulous glance and asked back "Why on earth wouldn't I have elbows?"

She had laughed and shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I just had never seen them. You cover yourself up quite a bit in everyday life, you know! I have seen you with rolled up sleeves, and I got pretty excited when you took off your tie one evening – remember when you did that science experiment with the silver halides – or whatever it was called… so I could see that you have a neck - and of course I know you have feet because I have seen those, but other than that…"

She hadn't finished her sentence, leaving it to him to imagine what she could mean.

Apparently, a little taken aback, he had raised his right eyebrow (how he did that was a miracle to her – she could only raise both eyebrows _together_ …), and then he had left her speechless for a moment with one of his deadpan comebacks.

He had said "Mind you, it might surprise you, but with a little more observance and focus, you'd realise that I have every body part that your ordinary, average man on the street has… and they're all in the right places. I'm just fairly exclusive and don't walk around letting everyone see it…"

She had given him a puzzled look, but just when she had wanted to retort something suitable, he had called Elvis, and she hadn't had another chance of getting back to him on that any more.

Well, it would be fun to see them tonight… Maybe he'd open up a bit more and tell her about what exactly had made him join the police. She hadn't dared to ask him openly yet – but now that they seemed to get closer, she might give it a try…

She seriously wanted to get to know him better… It was about time, wasn't it?

* * *

However, as it can go with the best-laid plans... you might end up getting overtaken by reality.

At a quarter past five, her phone began to buzz, and she recognised Fidel's private number.

She picked up and asked "Fidel? Anything the matter?"

"Camille? Where are you?" Fidel's voice sounded flustered and agitated.

"I'm at my mother's, just finished re-organising her pantry… What's up, Fidel? You sound alarmed!"

He sighed in response and then came forward "I'm just so worried about the Chief.. The thing is… Prissy is back, and she showed up to surprise Dwayne, as she said. If you ask me, though, it was rather that she wanted to avoid going to his place… She told him… she told him it's over, and she'll go back to Martinique on Monday or Tuesday – I forgot which – and, most importantly, she'll take Elvis with her… She… she made him come with her, although he didn't seem so keen to leave, and… Camille, the Chief is _devastated_. I mean, he looked like he'd been struck by a lightning, and… oh, it was so weird. He did order Elvis to go with Prissy, but he looked like someone ripped out his heart… You know how much he cares about him…"

"Oh dear…" Camille had sunk on a plastic container filled with flour packages. She could just imagine how gut-wrenching it had been for Richard to say goodbye to Elvis – without a warning, his world had fallen apart.

"Where is he now? The Chief, I mean…" she asked.

"He went home… Prissy was here at around half past four, and when she left, he sat down at his desk for a moment, shifted paper from one side to the other and then said he'd go home… he looked like a ghost, although… although he tried to hide it. You know what he's like…"

Fidel sounded seriously concerned.

Camille got up and said determinedly "I'll go to his house. He can't deal with that on his own, and no matter what he'll do to get rid of me, I won't give in."

As an afterthought, she asked "How's Dwayne, by the way?"

"Oh, _Dwayne_ …" Fidel's voice was dismissive now. "He looked shocked for a moment, but he'll get over it. I think it's his pride that got hurt, but nothing else. He doesn't invest much into relationships, you know…"

Camille pursed her lips and replied "You're right… he'll get over it. The Chief, however, is a different issue… Thank you for letting me know, Fidel. I'll be back at work tomorrow, but in any case, I'll go to see the Chief tonight. Did Prissy leave any of Elvis's toys in the station? No? Good… but please, do me a favour and check. If you find anything, put it into a box and store it away. I don't want him to fall over a squeaky toy or something else first thing tomorrow morning… Thanks!"

With that, she hung up, rushed out of the pantry and snatched the car keys from the rack in the hallway.

"I'm off, Maman," she informed Catherine who shot her an inquiring glance as she passed the counter of the bar. Turning around, she explained "Prissy is back - she'll return to Martinique early next week, and Elvis is supposed to go with her. I have to look after Richard now, so don't wait for me!"


	13. Camille Coming to the Rescue

Chapter 13 – Camille Coming to the Rescue

Camille didn't take the time to wait for her mother's reaction, although she did notice her calling out "Good luck" and waved briefly to acknowledge it. She was too concerned to turn around – otherwise she would have seen Catherine taking up her phone and making a call – and it might have struck her as funny…

But since she was so pre-occupied with how Richard might be doing, all she could focus on was getting out of here and driving to his place. On the way, she passed the local supermarket – and on the spur of the moment, she turned to enter their parking lot, jumped out of the Rover and marched inside to get some food. Most likely, Richard would have gone home without getting fresh groceries, and then he wouldn't want to eat, anyway – he'd sit around and feel miserable. The least she could do for him – other than giving him emotional support, as far as he'd accept it – was getting food for him.

It took her only five minutes to gather the ingredients for a good meal. She knew chicken soup wouldn't do anything for him, and it would take way too long to prepare that, anyway, so she had settled for another magic bullet: pasta. She knew that a lot of people turned to carbs when they were down, and Richard would be no exception… He would need comfort food now.

She couldn't possibly cook him a full roast with all the trimmings, but pasta was a realistic alternative. So she had bought a package of rigatoni (knowing that he wouldn't fancy spaghetti, fettucine or linguine – he had sometimes remarked about how 'difficult' they could be), ham, ground beef and cheese plus a few other ingredients – she wasn't sure what he had in his fridge, so she simply had bought everything she'd need for a good old 'Rigatoni al forno'.

Pasta and melted cheese would do him good… and although she generally didn't eat 'heavy' dishes like that, she knew she could do with a good portion of it tonight, too… She loved Elvis, too, and losing him to what her friend Floriane had called 'an irresponsible airhead' was quite a blow – no matter how much you knew it would happen, you never really were prepared…

She jumped into the Rover again and drove down to Richard's beach. When she approached the house, she saw that the shutters were closed, but the veranda door was open. Everything was quiet, all she could hear was the sound of the surf…

With the cooler in one hand, she walked up to the bungalow and up the steps. It seemed entirely still inside. She entered the room, quietly putting down the cooler next to the door, wondering what she would find.

There he was, sitting on the bed, his briefcase next to him. He hadn't heard her coming and was entirely unaware of her presence – his back had the slumped defenceless look of a person who believes himself alone. He sat there with one of Elvis's towels in his lap, resting his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, covering his face. She heard him breathing heavily, as if he was trying to come to a grip with his feelings.

Quietly, she walked up to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up with a start, and she saw that his eyes were red-rimmed as if he had cried – or tried very hard _not_ to cry. He didn't even make efforts to pretend that everything was fine – as he would have done if he had been less rattled. He just squinted at her and then said feebly, obviously trying to get out of his own personal hell "Oh, it's you…"

Camille nodded and let herself down to her knees, taking his hands into hers and whispering "Yes, it's me… Fidel just called me, so I've heard the news…"

His gaze conveyed abysmal loneliness, and impulsively, she pulled him close. At first, he was reluctant, but then his arms came around her, and he almost crushed her in a tight embrace, resting his face in the crook of her neck. She was wearing a short-sleeved blouse with a polo collar, but part of his face was still pressed against her bare skin – it said a lot about his state of mind that he didn't even notice it.

 _She_ noticed, but she didn't mind. Gently, she stroked his heaving shoulders, whispering soothing words in French. He didn't understand the words, but they made him feel better, anyway.

Eventually – after what seemed like a long time – his breathing calmed down, he lifted his head, and his eyes met hers. Without a warning, he suddenly hiccuped, and after a moment of surprised silence (and some embarrassment on his side), they both began to laugh a little shakily.

"Better?" she asked, letting go of him, but sitting back on her heels, still holding his hands. He nodded, cleared his throat and said slightly hoarsely "Yeah, I guess so. Thank you. I hadn't expected it would be _this_ bad. I mean… I knew he wasn't mine, and she'd come to fetch him, and I thought I was prepared. Turns out I was mistaken."

She pursed her lips and said matter-of-factly, but not without sympathy "I can imagine how you're feeling. And really, I've got to say that it's not particularly nice to abandon your dog for almost two months and leave him with strangers, only to show up again out of the blue and say you're taking him with you again. She should have notified Dwayne that she was coming. He must have been shocked to see her so unexpectedly."

He gave her a feeble, fake-looking smile and explained "I don't think she cared much for Dwayne's feelings. And mind you, we both know he has had fun with others in the meantime. Anyway, she told him it's over – which didn't really surprise me, given the fact that she's been gone for so long and never called him once. She sent texts, according to him, but they were infrequent, and he already had a hunch that it wouldn't last much longer. Still, I believe he was taken aback that it was finished like that…"

With a frown, she replied "Oh well, that was that then."

Silence fell between them. Richard let go of Camille's hands and fumbled for a handkerchief so he could wipe off the dampness that had spread on his forehead and his face.

Somehow, neither of them seemed to know what to say. Camille resolutely took up the thread, however, and suggested "Why don't you go and take a shower now? You could change into something more comfortable then, and when you're ready for it, we could have a bite to eat…"

"I'm… I'm afraid I don't have anything decent in the fridge," he replied, slightly agitated now and beginning to worry about not having anything in the house that he could share with her. He didn't want her to leave – but having no food around would surely shorten her visit considerably…

She smiled and got up, holding out her hand to him.

"No worries – I'm prepared for that. I brought everything with me. I'll start with the preparations while you're showering, and you help me when you're finished… okay?"

He took her hand and got up, feeling very old and washed-out, and responded gratefully "That sounds good to me. I'm sorry for being – er - such a wet blanket… It's just that…"

"I know."

Her reply was reassuring, and he felt her squeezing his hand very briefly before she let go.

Running a hand through his hair, he picked up the casual trousers and the shirt that were sitting on the chair right next to his bed and shuffled off to the bathroom. Before opening the door, he turned around once more and and said "Thank you, Camille. I mean it."

She tilted her head to one side and declared solemnly, but with a twinkle in her eyes "I'm just trying to be _supportive_ , you know…"

His smile was genuine this time.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, she looked around in the room and noticed all the items connected to Elvis. It wasn't only this one old towel – there was the cushion and the mix of blankets and towels that his bed had been made of, a few toys, the mistreated house slippers, the brush, the leash and a few other things. They all were in the same corner…

Quickly, she spread out the largest of the towels on the bed, picked up and folded all the smaller towels, placing the pile in the middle, added all the toys and other items to the heap and then folded up the large towel into a neat big bundle. It wouldn't do him good to be reminded of the dog constantly, and since she wasn't sure he'd have the energy to put everything away, she created facts and took care of the affair.

The bundle was fairly bulky and quite heavy, and for a moment, she wasn't sure what to do with it, but then she remembered the blanket box on the veranda, and resolutely stored the pile in there, along with the battered cushion Elvis had slept on. For the moment, that was the best place for it… It would be out of sight, and he could tackle the task of clearing things out when he was ready to do so.

With another canvassing glance she checked the room once again, then she gave a satisfied nod. This was much better.

And now it was time to get started on their meal…

* * *

Richard felt the lukewarm water trickling down in little rivulets over his body – the shower was a drip at the best of times, and tonight it was obviously determined to fail him completely. Nevertheless, it did him good. He lifted his face to the shower head, feeling the drops on his face. They felt like the tears he had tried so hard _not_ to cry out there in his room…

His eyes hurt, and his whole body felt like he had been run over by a lorry. Prissy's sudden appearance had really shocked him – he had immediately understood that it would mean the end of Elvis's stay with him. He had also known that he'd have to encourage Elvis to go with her – after nearly two months in his care, Elvis had got used to obeying him, and Prissy was his owner, after all… a rather negligent one, and Richard had his doubts that she really knew what a treasure she had in Elvis, but still… Elvis did not belong to him, he belonged to Prissy…

It had broken his heart when Elvis had trotted over to her and sat down by her feet, turning his head as if to ask 'I don't understand, but anyway - have I done this right?'. He hadn't shown any excitement or pleasure of seeing her again, and Richard had caught himself thinking that maybe he was just as sad as himself that their life together was coming to an end, but then had called himself an idiot… Really, Elvis would get re-adjusted to Prissy again quickly, and it was presumptuous to think he'd miss him…

Still, it had hit him like a brick wall.

And he knew he would have to get over it – but _how_ , he had no idea…

Suddenly, he realised that this would also mean he'd have to find other things to do, that he'd have to spend his evenings alone, that there wouldn't be anyone he could talk to when he was having dinner, that he'd never throw a stick again for Elvis or teach him new tricks… and finally, the tears he had withheld earlier on welled up and mingled with the water that was now pouring down from the shower head. He hadn't even noticed that the jet of water had become stronger two minutes ago…

He forced his thoughts back to Prissy's appearance, away from what he would not have any more, trying to distract himself. He had been surprised to see that Prissy was so young – and Dwayne had confirmed later on that she was a couple of years younger than Camille. And Dwayne was older than him… Well, Dwayne was a ladies' man, but really – an age gap like that… that was quite remarkable, wasn't it. If someone like Prissy found a man of Dwayne's age attractive… then maybe the age gap between Camille and him wasn't as blatant as he had always thought, and there was a chance – albeit a slim one - that…

Ah, no! What was he thinking? That was rubbish - and dangerous territory. He had her friendship, and that should be quite enough. Lovers could betray you – friends rarely did. And she surely wasn't thinking of him in _that_ way, anyway!

In any case, he was truly grateful that she had showed up tonight after she had heard the news. For a moment, he marvelled at how his stance had changed on a few things… months ago, he would have been angry with Fidel for calling Camille. He would have considered it interfering and 'meddling with his life'. Now, he was just thankful that Fidel cared enough for him to tell someone he was worried about him – and he was glad that Camille had come to stand by his side and support him…

It had felt good to have her arms around him. The scent of her perfume had enveloped and pacified him, and it had been comforting to hear her soothing voice… He had no idea what she had said, but it had sounded reassuring and encouraging. Too bad that he had never really got beyond basic knowledge when it came to French. He'd definitely have to look up some time what 'mon chou' meant – or whatever it was that she had said to him… She had actually said that several times, as he seemed to recall now.

But then a thought crossed his mind – did he really want to know? Maybe it was something daft or embarrassing? Oh well… He didn't even know _exactly_ how it was spelled…

With a determined flick of his wrist, he shut down the shower and then grabbed a towel. As he wrapped it around his body and stepped out of the shower, he felt a little better already.

* * *

Camille had found a dishtowel to put around her waist as a makeshift apron and started to dice the onion. The original recipe that she knew didn't include onions, but she felt that the dish was a little lame that way, and since Richard wasn't all that much for extremely spicy food she would have to reduce the recommended amount of red pepper, anyway, so the onion would give some extra flavour.

She let the olive oil heat up in the frying pan and added the onion dices, waited until they were golden and then added the ground beef, stirring vigorously so it wouldn't burn. Richard's stove was a little unpredictable, so she had to be careful.

Just when she was adding a spoonful of tomato puree, she heard the bathroom door opening and threw a quick glance over her shoulder to see how he was doing. He looked calmer now, though quite tired – it had been an emotional afternoon for him, so she understood. She'd let him potter around a little – he'd come to help when he was ready. There was no point in rushing him – he'd have to recover and regroup a little now.

Browning the content of the frying pan, she added vegetable stock that she had prepared before, then waited a moment before adding cream and bringing it all to the boil, adding two more spoonfuls of tomato puree. When that was done, she had a little more peace – she'd have to let it all simmer for about half an hour before it was time to melt the butter, add some seasoning and get the pasta on the way.

She had decided to come up with the full recipe for four people – they could eat as much as they liked, and he could freeze the rest for some other time. She knew that his fridge was very basic, but it did have a small freezer compartment… Come to think of it, all the appliances and the equipment in his house were very basic. It was surprising how he had been able to make do with all this for over two years. Not that he hadn't complained – particularly the shower and the general plumbing was a constant source of trouble…

Her thoughts were interrupted when he came to stand next to her and said "Hmmm. This smells quite promising. What is it?"

She turned her head to him with a smile and said smugly "It's not done yet, but it will be Rigatoni al forno when it's finished. On a less fancy note, you could also say it's a pasta casserole with ground beef and lots of cheese… This will simmer for a while, in the meantime we'll boil the pasta and prepare the dish over there –" she pointed to what was currently his fruit bowl. It was an oval dish, in an undefinable shade of brown, remarkably ugly, but quite useful.

"But we can't use that - it's my fruit bowl," he protested.

"Yes, and you can use it as a fruit bowl again later on," she said with a hint of exasperation in her voice, "but tonight it'll be our casserole dish. I've checked, and it's the only oven proof dish in this house that's big enough. Get the bananas out and place them on this napkin, and then go ahead and butter that dish… _please_ …"

He mumbled and grumbled a little, but she knew only too well that he wasn't serious. She had seen the faint gleam in his eyes when he had protested… and it had given her hope: the desperate, dead look had disappeared, and he was slowly coming back to life…


	14. Conspiracies

Chapter 14 - Conspiracies

When Camille was home again, she found a note on her fridge, saying 'I hope he's OK. Don't know how you feel, but I think the final chapter has not yet been written! - Bisous, Maman'

What on earth could her mother mean with that? Was it some kind of encouragement? Or did her mother know something that she didn't?

Camille was confused. But there was no way she could find out, and actually she was too tired to give a guess.

It was definitely time to go to bed.

Despite the situation, it had been a fairly pleasant evening - all things considered. Richard had tried hard not to appear too miserable, and they had managed to talk about harmless things - at least most of the time. He had been genuinely grateful for her presence, and he had praised her food generously. They had eaten as much as they possibly could, and a large-sized portion had gone into the freezer once it had cooled off.

As she had assumed, he had felt a craving for carbs, and the pasta-and-cheese-combination had done him good. "Comfort food", he had muttered when she had brought out the plates - they had sat down on the veranda, the small table between them.

"I hope it will help at least a little bit…" she had said softly. He had looked up into her face and responded with a sad half smile "I'm sure it will. But actually, it's the company that will help more, I think…"

That had been a noteworthy remark from someone who insisted that he was happiest in his own company, Camille had thought, and she had thought back to what he had been like when he had come to Saint Marie… he had made so much progress!

No. _They_ had made so much progress.

After their meal, they had done the dishes together, and then they had sat outside for a bit. They had made desultory conversation about anything and everything, and Elvis hadn't been a topic until Camille had made ready to leave and wished him a good night. Richard had sighed and said a little wistfully "It will be strange to be all alone again after having had Elvis around more or less constantly for over two months..."

Camille had nodded understandingly and remarked "But there's still Harry - or has he abandoned you?"

Richard had shaken his head and responded with a shrug "He's still around, but you know how erratic lizards are. He's not a particularly great conversationalist to begin with, and it's a bit depressing when your counterpart whizzes off when you're in the middle of a grandiose discourse about the sun, the moon and the stars or a brilliant line of argument... Elvis clearly has been a lot more attentive. At least he _pretended_ to listen."

She had smiled and said "Well, I can just imagine Elvis sitting there, awe-struck and completely devoted to you... he's a great little fellow, isn't he!"

His eyes had become a bit misty, and he had said "He is. I hadn't thought I'd fall so hard for him. How foolish of me to do that."

"No... no, don't say that. I don't think you're foolish," she had replied thoughtfully. "I think it's never foolish to show affection. Emotions are important, not only brains and rationality. And he adored you, that was obvious. I know it sounds corny, but really, aren't you grateful that it happened? I know, you'd rather not have it end like that, but still - isn't it a good thing that he was around for a while, and the two of you had a good time together?"

He had frowned, and after some pondering, he had conceded reluctantly that yes, he was grateful, and yes, it had been good to have fun with Elvis... and before he could go on by saying 'but', she had interrupted him.

"Don't say it. It is what it is, and you know it wasn't his decision to go away. You gave him a home for over two months, he had a good life with you, and this is what counts."

He had groaned a little, but couldn't help but agree with her. "Life is such a puzzle sometimes," he had said with a sigh.

With a little smile, she had got up and responded "You know, Richard - I told you before that you don't have to solve your puzzles by yourself any more… Good night now, and sleep tight!"

She had bid him 'au revoir' then and left him, speechless and wondering what on earth her remark was supposed to mean…

Yes, she had said this before – but he still had no clue what to make of it…

* * *

On the next morning, Camille came in early to brief Dwayne and Fidel on what had happened the night before. She knew they'd both be worried, so she wanted them to know that Richard was trying to cope with the situation and how he was doing. She decided not to go into detail about her visit, but they already knew that it would be difficult for him, and she wanted to reassure them that he was doing his best to get on with things.

Fidel's face was full of sympathy when she mentioned that he wasn't taking it lightly but trying his best.

"I went to see him at his shack right after you had called me, Fidel. I don't think I've ever seen him so beside himself, but he realises that he's got to accept it – Elvis belongs to Prissy, and that's it."

Fidel nodded and said "I know. He said that much when she came here out of the blue yesterday and claimed the pooch. Honestly, Elvis didn't seem that excited. I'm inclined to say that he has all forgotten about her, anyway. Can't blame him – the Chief was absolutely wonderful with him. There wasn't anything he wouldn't have done for him, and yet he wasn't _gushing_ over him or spoiling him rotten."

He turned to Dwayne who just stood there, strangely indifferent and seemingly unconcerned. "Did you talk to her later on, Dwayne? Or did you just leave it at that when she said it was over and she'd return to Martinique?"

Dwayne shrugged and said somewhat callously "I saw her around Deborah's club later on. She had left Elvis at her friend's house – she's staying with Stephanie again until she'll go away for good. We were outside and had a little chat. She didn't want to go inside, said it was too loud, and she didn't want me to buy her a drink, either – said that the 'dissolute lifestyle' didn't suit her any more. Never heard anything more stilted in my whole life…" He paused, his face full of disdain, and then continued "Turns out she's getting married."

His voice sounded a little bitter now. Even he had perceived that as a blow. Not that he had seriously been waiting for her – he had continued to have little affairs here and there – but his pride was hurt. Usually he was the one who put an end to the relationships he didn't feel comfortable with any longer. It was a new experience for him to get ditched – or at least an experience he hadn't made any more since his first major disappointment as a 20 year old lad.

"Her fiancé is a doctor, she says. A 'respectable man' – phooey! Met him when he came to check on Gladys – seems they were both thunderstruck with one another from the start. Oh well. I will survive… I asked her about the money she had promised to send for Elvis, you know, and she had the cheek to say that in a friendship like ours it would be offensive and almost an insult if she gave me money for doing her a good turn and looking after the mutt. What a heap of crap, really."

He noticed Camille's and Fidel's sceptical faces and professed "I would have given it to the Chief, of course. Mind you, he really had all the work. I'm not _that_ mean, honestly!"

Scratching his ear, he added "She'll come and get her belongings some time tonight. It's not much, just a suitcase full of stuff. She'll send me a text when she's ready. Honestly, I never thought anything would come out of it, anyway, but it's quite something to treat others like that. Not to mention Elvis – I mean, how can you leave your dog behind for over two months without ever really asking about him? Well, she did ask, but it wasn't that she was really interested – she never called me once to hear how he was doing or if he was missing her or how I'd get on with him, it was all via text. Which suited me at the time, but it makes me wonder now…"

Nothing of that was very logical, but Fidel and Camille understood. He had a point when it came to Prissy's apparent lack of interest regarding Elvis's well-being. Belligerently, Camille thought she might as well have left Elvis with Richard instead of reclaiming him when she wasn't really interested, anyway… Why take him away from a perfect home?

Before they could go deeper into that topic, Richard's voice boomed out from the doorstep "Good morning, team…" – and everyday business resumed.

* * *

Richard tried very hard to appear normal – whatever that was. Gratefully, he registered that everything connected to Elvis had disappeared. Of course, Prissy had taken the hideous blanket with her, and also the toys. But the water bowl was also gone, along with everything else… He wondered who had put it all away.

At his house, it obviously had been Camille – he truly appreciated her thoughtfulness on the matter. He hadn't noticed immediately that she had cleared away the towels, the toys and all the other little things – when he had come out of the shower, he had been distracted by the food, by laying out the table and by informing her about the incalculabilities of the oven. And by bickering about the oven-proof dish, of course.

Only later had he realised that his house almost appeared like Elvis had never been there. She had seen how he had surreptitiously looked around, scanning the rooms and the veranda, and mentioned in passing "It's all in the big blanket box on the veranda. I thought it's no good to have it all right in front of your eyes, so I bundled it up and stored it away. Maybe, in a while you will want to look through it. You can do that some time when you're up to it, but for the time being, I'd suggest you'll just let it sit. It's not about avoiding or being in denial… I just think it's healthier to wait a little until you feel less… raw."

For a moment, he had felt like a wimp for not feeling able to look at a mere towel or a chewed-up houseslipper, but the truth was that it would have been too much. So, he had just accepted it the way it was.

And one of them had cleared away all Elvis-related items in the station as well… His team was really the best. He had known before, of course, but never had he felt so grateful for their thoughtfulness and acceptance. No, this would never have happened in Croydon. It was a good thing that he was here now…

He went on with his usual routines, and after a while, he felt fairly comfortable again. Of course, he missed Elvis, but he was sure now that he'd get re-adjusted…

It only was a matter of time.

* * *

Midway through the morning, Camille received a call on her mobile phone. It was her mother. With raised eyebrows, she got up and went outside so she could have a little more privacy and wouldn't disturb the rest of the team. What could her mother want from her at this time of the day? Maybe it had to do with her lunch break?

Leaning on one of the veranda posts, she picked up the call and asked "Maman? What's the matter?" After that she switched to French – she and her mother usually communicated in a mix of both languages. It was a bit like their own secret code – although, of course, both languages were understood by others, too, they had developed a certain usage of words and expressions that were a bit 'off' and had a special meaning for them.

It turned out that Catherine wanted her to come to the bar for lunch. "And please come by yourself," she insisted. "I need to discuss something in private with you, you know…"

Camille had no idea what that could be, but it was a good opportunity to tell her about the evening at Richard's place, too, and give her an idea about how he was dealing with the new situation. Catherine had loved Elvis, too – the little dog had been incredibly popular, anyway – and she had certainly seen the effect that he had had on Richard who had become more lenient and relaxed over the past two months…

"Problem, Camille?" Richard asked with raised eyebrows when she came back into the station and sat down at her desk. She looked up from her keyboard and smiled at him warmly, explaining "No, no – it's just that Maman asked me to come for lunch. I hope it's okay that I take an entire hour then – and of course, if you'd like me to bring you something, I could certainly do that."

"No, no – thank you, Camille, I'm fine. I'm still quite full from yesterday's dinner, and I've bought a sandwich on the way here, so I'm all set."

Around noon, Fidel and Dwayne set off for their usual market patrol, and when they came back half an hour later, Camille packed up her bag and set off for La Kaz. As she passed the two officers who were sitting on the veranda bench with an ice cream each, she hissed "Ask him to join you and chat with him, if you know what's good for you. He'll just fall into brooding if he's on his own, and he'll try to distract himself – and then he'll come up with all sorts of ideas of how to keep you busy."

Fidel grinned, and Dwayne snorted "Perish the thought… you're right, Camille! Have a nice lunch and say hello to your mother!"

* * *

On the way back to the station, Camille couldn't help but wonder how things sometimes fell into place when you thought they had fallen apart – there was truth in the saying that life really worked in mysterious ways.

Her lunch break had been full of surprises. Not only had the Commissioner joined her for her meal, but also his wife. Camille only knew her rather superficially, but she had always liked her, and after their conversation today, she liked her even more.

Now she also knew what her mother had meant with the note she had left her on the fridge…

The plan that Selwyn Patterson had laid out and explained during lunch sounded promising – actually, it was more than just a plan, he had already taken action.

At first, Camille had been taken aback by his obvious omission to inform Richard about the facts that his plan was based on, but then she understood – the Commissioner didn't want to ask and agree, he wanted to be the one who was granting a bestowment. That would make him appear a lot more generous and almost patriarchal, and that was what he wanted – hence all the tactics and secrecy.

Suzanne Patterson had then chimed in to explain the other part of their scheme – if you wanted to call it that way – and Camille hadn't only been delighted, she had been electrified by the idea.

The world suddenly had looked so much brighter…

Now, if things could only go smoothly… The problem was that there wasn't much time – everything had to happen over the next few days. There was no chance for plan B – although Suzanne Patterson had remarked that they had built in so many possible solutions and alternatives for whatever obstacle might come up that they actually had a plan B, C, and D – at least. They were determined – and they would succeed.

As she approached the station and saw Richard sitting on the bench with Fidel and Dwayne, the Commissioner's parting words rang in her ears: "Remember, Camille, he must not get the faintest inkling. This must remain a secret until I show up. We'll talk more on the phone when I have the precise time and date and can decide on how to do it. If you feel it's safe, you might want to bring Fidel and Dwayne into the loop, but it's important that our plan won't leak out."

Keeping secrets had always been part of Camille's job, so she knew she could do it, and she also knew she could trust her colleagues… Still, the suspense was enormous…

Fortunately, it would only be a few days before the big revelation would happen

An excited little smile curved her lips as she walked up the steps to the station…


	15. Weekend Activities

Chapter 15 – Weekend Activities

The forthcoming weekend would surely be tough for him, Richard mused. He'd have his day off on Monday once again, so it would be a long weekend – not very well-timed, he felt. But it was too late to change the rota now, and it wouldn't be fair on the others to turn everything upside down just because he would prefer to have something sensible to do - so he'd have to sit it out. And he wasn't really all that busy at the station, anyway, so going to work wouldn't provide the distraction he'd need, either.

He'd just have to keep himself involved and engaged with activities so he wouldn't think too much and fall into brooding. Of course, he would have to catch up on housework and go grocery shopping, and he could certainly do some stargazing in the evenings. He had continued to do the latter during Elvis's stay, too, so it was not that he had given up on every activity because of the little dog, but his daily routines had revolved around him to a certain extent.

There were other things he could do… he had gone for walks before Elvis had moved to his house, and he could just keep doing that – although he would have to try and avoid the memory of their walks together… It definitely wouldn't be so much fun any more without the little mutt by his side.

He knew he'd have to pick up his life again where he had left it when Elvis had appeared, no matter how hard it might be at first, and he had remembered his resolution to have more fun in general…

Well, since he didn't have Elvis around any more to have fun with, he'd have to try to have fun on his own, and so he had decided he'd go to Guadeloupe on his day off – he hadn't been there in a while, and whenever he had gone, he hadn't really had time to explore because he had been busy with work-related issues. Camille had recently given him a leaflet about one of the art museums there that she had picked up a while ago and remarked that at least this place was air-conditioned, so he could always go there if the heat got too much for him.

There were a few other places he might want to have a look at – Fidel had mentioned an antiquarian bookshop in one of the side streets that might be worth a visit, and he could perhaps try out one of the famous coffee houses, too. He still preferred tea over coffee, but had read an article in a magazine recently where a few selected coffee places had been featured, and they all provided a multitude of beverages, including various ranges of tea – a fact that had actually surprised him and made him wonder where he had spent the past two years that this important aspect had escaped his attention. He figured he had obviously been so wrapped up in his own little world that he hadn't noticed…

When Camille had asked him in the late afternoon what his plans for the weekend were, he had tried to give her an evasive answer because he didn't want to bother her, but she hadn't accepted that – and finally she had blown up on him and hissed "You know, it's not because I'm nosey and want to pry – I'm asking because I _worry_ about you! That's what friends do, just in case you didn't know!"

There had been an awkward silence after her outburst, and he had felt his face getting warm as she glared at him… He hadn't really thought anyone might worry about him like that. Obviously, he had appreciated her presence on the disastrous day of Elvis's departure, and he had understood that his team had cared enough to make his return to work easy and all that, but it puzzled him that they'd keep worrying beyond that. He was so used to coping on his own and nobody giving a jot about his feelings that the idea that they'd care didn't even occur to him.

Finally, he had managed a feeble "Oh." And then he had added "Um. Well… to be honest… strictly speaking… I wasn't… I didn't… honestly, I didn't think you'd really want to know now that… now that the immediate… distress… is… well, you know, now that the acute… - er…"

Camille had rolled her eyes, and he had hurried to tell her about his idea to go to Guadeloupe. That would please her, he had known that, and she'd see that he wouldn't just sit at home and brood – if she was concerned about that, he had wanted to make it clear that she needn't worry…

And in fact, she had come up with a couple of recommendations for restaurants and said "I'm glad you're making an effort to get out and about. It will do you good to get away for a bit, and although it might turn out to be a little exhausting to spend the day there, you'll feel refreshed and distracted afterwards. It can't hurt to see some new places for a change."

Picking up her bag, she had come round to stand next to his desk and said "I'm off now. Have a good weekend, and…"

She had hesitated for a moment. They had been alone in the office, Fidel and Dwayne had already left. Before he had known what was happening, she had briefly touched his shoulder and added "Keep your pecker up, Richard. Life can be puzzling, as you said yesterday, but that also means that good things can come your way when you least expect them. I'll be thinking of you over the weekend – and if you need to talk or want some company… you know my number. You're always welcome to call me…"

He had never received a forthright invitation to get in touch like that, and he had been taken aback by her straightforwardness – but then again, she had made it clear that she was worried, and he had felt strangely validated and reassured. It had felt good to know that _someone_ cared about his well-being… Even better to know that it was Camille – but he had banished _that_ thought before it could become too prevalent.

Well, whatever - he'd make the best of his time off – sitting around and brooding would only make him more miserable, and it wouldn't bring Elvis back, either…

* * *

While Richard was tentatively trying to make plans for the weekend, other people had so much on their plate that they didn't know where to begin.

Camille had informed Fidel and Dwayne about the Commissioner's plans, and they both were quite excited. Fidel had offered to step in if help was needed, and of course, Dwayne couldn't stand back, although he'd have to rearrange his plans. They both had to do their respective weekend shifts (each of them spent a day at the station so it was manned for emergencies), and now that they had agreed on helping out so everything would definitely be finished in time, there wouldn't be much left for other activities.

Juliet had initially not been too happy, but then Fidel had convinced her to come along – her sister was looking after Rosie, anyway, so even if they didn't have the chance to go for a 'date', they would at least spend time together. There wouldn't be any physically heavy work for her to do – the men would take care of that (the Commissioner had arranged for a few handymen to do the most challenging work) – but she could add the final touch together with Camille – things that 'the men wouldn't have an eye for', as Catherine had described it.

"But Dwayne, didn't you have other plans?" Camille had asked, amazement in her voice when he said he'd come, too. "Well, yes, I did, but never mind," he had said gruffly. Then he had continued to explain "The Chief has helped me out of a fix a few times, and it won't do me any harm to help out now that there's a chance to give something back. And at least I'd be safe from Prissy there – she's been parading around Honoré, with Elvis in tow – it's not funny any more. The little pooch looks totally depressed, if you ask me. Can't blame him – from what I know, the Chief played with him, and that's definitely not happening with Prissy. Unless she has changed fundamentally. When she stayed with me, she _never_ played with him. I don't know why she ever got a dog in the first place…"

It was quite clear that Dwayne's pride still was hurt, and he didn't feel inclined to cross Prissy's path. Everything would be so much easier when she was gone.

* * *

In the meantime, Prissy was bored out of her wits and felt somewhat lost. It was a good thing that she'd only stay for an extended weekend and could return to Martinique then. She had never felt quite at home on Saint Marie – she had basically moved here with her parents (who had adored her – she had been their last child, and she had come unexpectedly, a number of years after her mother had already given up on having another baby), and after they both had passed on and her siblings had all left to other places, she had felt a bit lonely.

Truth be told, she didn't quite fit in with the locals – she blamed it on the fact that she hadn't grown up on the island and hence didn't have the network. That surely made it a little more difficult, but was only part of the problem – another aspect was that she quite fancied herself and tended to believe that she was a cut above the island people. As her parents had treated her like a princess and her much older siblings had also spoilt her, she felt entitled to be treated like that by everyone else, too.

That had also resulted in her not staying in any job she had taken on – she just couldn't be bothered. It had always been the same scenario: after a few months she had either quit, or she had been asked to go. Somehow, she had always muddled through, but it had been challenging sometimes. Following her sister's request to come to Martinique had been the best decision she had ever made. If only she hadn't got Elvis in the first place – as cute as he was, she didn't really know what had came over her to get a dog.

Well, that wasn't entirely true – it had been tempting to imagine that a living creature depended on her and would love her regardless of her faults, and she had thought it was 'chic' to have a dog. She hadn't really thought much about the responsibility.

She had been sorely tempted not to return to Saint Marie at all and just leave Elvis to Dwayne, but Roy – her fiancé and a very honourable man – had appealed to her conscience and told her she'd have to get him over to Martinique – after all, she had adopted him, and he was dependent on her.

It wasn't that she didn't like Elvis. He was super-cute – or at least he had been super-cute before she had left for Martinique. She wasn't so sure any more now. He seemed despondent, dejected, almost depressed now. What had happened to the lively fluffball that he had been before? She didn't really know what Dwayne had done with him during her absence – she only knew that he had taken Elvis to the station with him, and obviously, he had been adopted by the entire team. The uber-correct Detective Inspector had clearly known how to deal with him – Elvis had obeyed his every command and followed his orders. That had been very impressive.

It had also flattered her that Inspector Poole had referred to her as a 'lady' – right, he had said to Elvis 'go to your mum', but when she had showed up to ask for Dwayne, he had turned around and called 'Dwayne, here's a young lady for you'. She had felt very respected by him!

As she walked down the street with Elvis – who was actually just listlessly following her without showing any enthusiasm for anything – she realised that she was hungry, although it wasn't even noon yet, and she remembered that she had used to go to a bar named 'La Kaz' with Dwayne a couple of times. It would be nice to have a bite to eat now – but she didn't really want to run into Dwayne, so maybe it wasn't a good idea to stop there? Well, it was just around the corner, so she'd go and have a look…

She approached the bar, and much to her relief, there were only a few customers occupying the tables, and Dwayne was not among them. For a Saturday, the bar wasn't very busy, but maybe she was too early? It was a little before noon… She hoped it wasn't too early to get food – she was starving!

She sat down and had a look at the menu – there were some good snacks available, and she was still trying to make up her mind when the owner came up to her and greeted her.

Much to her surprise, she was addressed by her first name, and when she looked up in astonishment, the owner gave her a radiant smile and said cordially "Oh, but I remember you! How could I forget you – you were here with Dwayne a couple of times, and of course I know your little dog – that's Elvis, isn't it?"

She bent down to pet him, and Elvis wagged his tail. Catherine exclaimed "But wait, I'll bring you some water…" – and she zoomed off, returning with a bowl full of water in one hand and a colourful, albeit slightly shabby towel in the other.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" she cooed as she spread out the towel for Elvis who happily laid down and got comfortable. He really liked this place! He was treated respectfully here, and perhaps there was a chance he'd meet Richard here again. He missed him… And they had gone here quite regularly, so, maybe…

Turning to Prissy again, Catherine said "He's such a cutie. But forgive me, I should have asked before… would you like something to eat?"

And she began to tell her about the specials – at a pace that Prissy just understood half of it, the rest went by in a whirlwind sounding much like 'rat-a-tat' to her.

Catherine laughed when she saw Prissy's helpless face and said amicably "Oh, I know – it's a bit overwhelming. Are you very hungry, or is it more that you have 'an appetite'?"

Prissy was a little embarrassed to admit that she had more than just an appetite although she had just had something to eat two hours ago. "Something savoury would be lovely – something with pepperoni sausages or smoked ham, if you have that?"

Catherine showed her two options on the menu that might suit her and then added "But you can also combine dishes – look, _this_ might be something you'd like, perhaps in combination with _that_? It will take a little longer to prepare, but it's all fresh, and it will be cooked especially for you."

Her demeanour tickled Prissy's vanity, and she agreed, feeling appreciated and flattered.

"And what would you like to drink? It's not too early for a glass of wine, I'd say…" Catherine suggested, "or maybe a cocktail while you're waiting?"

"Oh no, no alcohol, please," Prissy responded hastily.

"We also have mocktails, of course – I could mix you something special, just tell me what you like, and I'll compose something for you. I love doing that, so don't worry, it's really no problem. We're not very busy at the moment, as you can see – it's too early. The big rush will come later, so I have the time."

After she had made her decision and placed the order, Prissy leant back in her chair and looked out on the sea. Ah, it was good to be treated adequately for once… Catherine had always been friendly, but today, she was really excelling herself. But really, she was right, the bar wasn't busy, and she could afford spending some time on preparing a good meal for her. She was ready to pay for it, of course… Roy had given her some pocket money and emphasised that it was all for her personal use, and she should indulge herself and be happy…

She did not see that Catherine took out her mobile as soon as she had reached the counter of her bar, turned her back on her and made a phonecall, and she did not hear her saying "She's here now. Came by coincidentally, as it seems – how lucky we are, huh? Just walked in and ordered food – I'll cook her something extra special, so it will take time… You're coming? Great. I have a lemon meringue pie for you as dessert, if that's okay? Two slices? Ah, I see… that's a brilliant idea! Right… See you in a sec!"

And with that, she hung up, a little smile on her lips…


	16. Hatching Plots

Chapter 16 – Hatching Plots

Richard checked the time on his watch. It wasn't quite noon – and he had already caught up with most of his housework. He really wanted a break now, but each time he sat down and tried to relax, he felt a heaviness of spirit coming over him that made it impossible to feel peaceful. He didn't want to bury himself in doom and gloom, but it was hard not to do so. He tried to feel the _gratitude_ that Camille had mentioned – the gratitude that he had had such a lovely time with Elvis – but all he could feel was loss, bereavement and abandonment.

He hadn't felt that miserable in a long, long time. It made him think about how his life had changed here on Saint Marie – without him noticing it at all. At first, he had hated it here, then he had found it tolerable, and recently, he had actually quite liked it – mostly. He still hated the sand and the heat, but there was so much more to Saint Marie than that.

Hesitantly, he took out his mobile phone and opened the contact list. She had said he could call her anytime. But what would she think if he took her up on her offer? He hadn't ever called her, except for professional reasons. There was no professional reason today, so it would be different if he called her now. He'd have to admit straightout that he felt lonely. Wouldn't he come across as some moanbag? A whiner who couldn't stop complaining instead of counting his blessings? She had been compassionate, but she hadn't pitied him – he knew the difference.

However… wouldn't he overstrain her patience if he called her now simply because he felt a bit 'off'?

Okay, it was more than feeling a bit off. It was more like feeling depressed, let down and abandoned.

But really…

No. He couldn't do it. Maybe he'd call her tomorrow. If he called her today, he couldn't call her tomorrow, too – that would be too much… He didn't want to come across as needy.

True, they had become closer lately, and he had gained new insights from their conversation about her friendship with Aimée, but still – it wouldn't be appropriate. He'd have to cope on his own, as he had always done.

With another sigh, he slipped the mobile back into his pocket. He figured he'd better keep himself busy – so he got up to go and give his bathroom a thorough cleaning…

* * *

Prissy had just taken the first sip of her delicious mocktail when she saw a middle-aged couple entering the bar. The lady seemed vaguely familiar, although she didn't remember the name. She didn't have a great memory when it came to names, anyway, and that had brought her into some unpleasant situations already. She got a little nervous as she saw the couple approaching and sitting down at the neighbouring table.

Elvis stirred when he recognised the Commissioner. This was the man who had made Richard uneasy – he remembered _that_ … He pretended he didn't notice him, but his movement had apparently drawn the gaze of the Commissioner's companion on him, and a warm female voice exclaimed "Oh look, Selwyn – isn't that the cutest little dog you've ever seen?"

A hand came down to pet him and scratch him between the ears. Elvis gave a faint wheeze and moved a little closer to encourage the owner of the hand to continue.

The voice came again, into Prissy's direction now "Oh, sorry for that – I didn't mean to be a bother… I'm forgetting my manners… I'm Suzanne Patterson, and that's my husband Selwyn…"

She gestured into direction of her husband who gave a brief nod.

"Prissy Maynard…" said Prissy, and Mrs Patterson raised her eyebrows and asked "Maynard? Matilda Maynard's daughter?"

Prissy nodded, happy that at least someone knew who she was – pretty much everyone in Honoré had been ignoring her since she had returned from Martinique… well, Catherine had recognised her, but that surely was due to the fact that she had been at the bar with Dwayne several times… It did her good to see that she wasn't entirely forgotten, although Mrs Patterson clearly only knew her in relation to her mother.

It didn't take long, and the Pattersons had asked Prissy to join them at their table, and they were chatting away. Selwyn Patterson remained quiet most of the time, listening and observing what was going on. Elvis had moved closer to his wife, and while it was clear that he was cautious towards _him_ , he definitely seemed to fancy Suzanne.

That was a good thing – the Commissioner had been a little worried about how part of his plan would work out, but the fact that Elvis had taken a shine to Suzanne solved all sorts of problems – or rather, it neutralised issues that could have become problems.

Catherine served Prissy's lunch and took up the Pattersons' order – just a bowl of _ratatouille_ for each of them, along with a glass of white wine and some water – "oh, and a slice of your excellent lemon meringue pie with coffee afterwards, Catherine!" – and soon enough, Suzanne Patterson had found out all the details about Prissy's visit on Martinique, her plans for the future, and her hopes, wishes and dreams.

"So, you'll go back to Martinique on Tuesday and will get married to your young man then next month?" the Commissioner asked. Prissy nodded and explained that they had called the banns at the local town hall – because Martinique was part of France they had to get married _there_ at any rate - but they had also made arrangements for a church wedding with the priest of the church that Roy attended, and the event would take place in three weeks from now.

Mrs Patterson remarked "That sounds wonderful." Then she added "And what about the honeymoon?"

Prissy raved about the trip that Roy had planned for them – they'd spend two weeks in the US – in St. Augustine, Florida. Roy owned a beach house there, she explained.

The Commissioner felt that his time had come to ask a few pointed questions, and so he cleared his throat and asked "And you're going to take Elvis along?"

For a moment, Prissy hesitated, then she responded "We haven't quite figured it out yet, but I think that shouldn't be a problem… Also, my fiancé's mother loves dogs, so I'm sure he could stay with her…"

Selwyn Patterson silently congratulated himself for having such a naïve 'opponent'. Of course, Prissy had no idea that he saw her as his _opponent_ … but whatever, it was a good thing that she clearly wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. It wouldn't be too difficult to impress her with a horror scenario of bureaucratic hurdles…

Gravely, he pointed out that there were procedures and regulations when it came to pets leaving one country and entering another. He asked "So, I assume you have a pet passport for Elvis at hand when you take him to Martinique – and later to the US?"

The dumbfounded expression on her face showed him that she had never heard of that. He explained "Well, you have already pointed out yourself that Saint Marie is British, and Martinique is part of France, so legally, you're crossing a border, and you need documents for that. Of course, we have freedom of movement in the European Union, but there are special regulations for animals."

Prissy was aghast. She had never given any thought to this. And Roy hadn't mentioned anything like that, either, so he clearly hadn't known, either. Roy was so clever, and he would have discussed this with her if he had been aware of this issue…

The Commissioner added "I'm sure that it wouldn't be a major problem to get the relevant documents, but it might take some time. I'd say you'd have to allow about two weeks or so for all the paperwork and the formalities. Then, of course, you'll have to get Elvis over to Martinique by plane – as he's too big for being transported as carry on luggage, he'd have to go into the plane's belly space."

"Oh, how _awful_ ," Suzanne Patterson exclaimed, "The poor little thing – if I were him, I'd have a heart attack! It's such a nightmare – the very thought of what the poor animals have to suffer during a flight makes me ill! I've heard that many of them have to get sedated, and some don't survive…"

And she bent down to ruffle Elvis's fur. The little dog grunted faintly and clearly revelled in her caress.

Prissy's eyes widened. She knew only too well how Elvis reacted when he was seriously upset. He had been fairly apathetic over the past few days since she had picked him up, but Dwayne had not left her in doubt about his reasons for taking him to the station instead of leaving him at his house: Elvis had kicked up such a row that the neighbours had revolted and said they couldn't tolerate him being alone at home if he barked like the devil was after him…

This did not bode well. She suddenly realised that not only would she have to deal with bureaucratic hurdles that would play havoc with her carefully laid-out timetable, also she'd have to worry about Elvis making it to Martinique in one piece – most likely, she'd have to have him sedated, and who knew how he was going to take all this? Suzanne Patterson's remark that he might suffer from a heart attack and that some pets didn't survive a flight in the cargo department had shocked her – she had never thought that far… In all honesty, she realised that she had actually never thought _at all_ about the difficulties involved in getting her dog off the island.

Her eyes filled with tears – not only for herself, but also for Elvis. Poor little chap – he had such separation angst, and he'd most likely go berserk if she'd put him into a transport box, not to mention the fear he might have to endure during the flight… It was just an hour, but that didn't include checking in and checking out… it would easily be three hours or more than he'd have to spend in the transport box.

And of course, she was worried about herself, too. Prissy wasn't unfeeling, but as much as she liked Elvis – was he worth all the trouble? Roy would not be happy if she told him she'd have to stay on Saint Marie until things with the pet passport were sorted out, and what was more, she didn't really want to stay here, either. She couldn't stay with Stephanie for longer than these few days – her friend had made it clear that anything beyond that would be outstaying her welcome. She couldn't move to a hotel, either, because most of them didn't allow dogs, and the ones that did charged extra – she was basically skint when it came to her own money, and she didn't really want to spend Roy's money on _that_ …

Not to mention that she didn't want to extend her stay, anyway – she didn't want the gossip factory to work overtime. She knew only too well that rumours about why she was staying longer would make the round, and people would draw all sorts of conclusions… Stephanie would perhaps make remarks about how she wasn't happy with having her staying around longer, and it would all end up in a big mess…

No, she didn't want _any_ of that. She wanted to get away from here and start her new life with Roy…

And then, out of the blue - as so often over the past few days - she felt a sudden wave of nausea welling up. Suzanne Patterson didn't fail to notice – she had observed Prissy quietly as she had almost wolfed down her meal, she had registered how Prissy had turned down Selwyn's invitation to have a glass of wine with them, and it had not escaped her how Prissy had kept touching her stomach.

Softly, she said to the young woman who was just trying to regain her composure "And what are you going to do when time passes and you'll feel more and more immobile, and what if Elvis gets jealous of your little one and cannot accept that he can't have you for himself any more?"

Her husband's mouth opened in astonishment – he quickly covered that up, though, by taking another bite of his pie - and Prissy gawped at her, not knowing what to say. Her first instinct was denying any knowledge of what the older woman was talking about, but then she broke down, and the tears began to fall…

Twenty minutes later, the Pattersons and Prissy Maynard had come to a mutual consent that suited both sides… A firm handshake sealed their agreement.

On the way home to their house, the Commissioner asked his wife "How did you know?"

Suzanne Patterson's lips curved in a smile. "I might never have been pregnant myself, Selwyn, but in all the years I've worked for the Women's Circle I've certainly learnt to read the signs. Prissy was a 'textbook example', so to speak… she had cravings, she felt sick all of a sudden, she kept touching her stomach, and she was very emotional, if you know what I mean. I'm not saying that all women who behave like that are pregnant – or that all pregnant women have the same symptoms - , but I had a certain suspicion when she declined having a glass of wine with us – she might not be a really wild child – not as far as I know, at least – but she's never been a teetotaller, either. I observed her, and it all seemed to fit together, so…"

Her husband nodded thoughtfully, then he asked "You don't think she'll change her mind, do you?"

"No," was his wife's reply. "She's much too happy that we have lifted the weight of this responsibility off her shoulders. She didn't want to put her comfortableness at stake, I knew that fairly quickly, and the way we described how Elvis would have to walk through hell plus the bureaucratic hurdles that you mentioned made the decision easy for her. She can kill two birds with one stone now – she doesn't have to take him with her, and she can feel like she's a real altruist, too, because she puts the dog's needs before hers… You can bet on it, she'll show up on our doorstep at the appointed time…"

* * *

Dwayne stumbled a little as he helped to heave a big mattress off a delivery van. "Man, I'm glad you're here to give me a hand, Dwayne," said John, the driver, wiping his brow as they took a short break, holding the mattress in place.

"This is a monster of a mattress. Usually, there are two of us when king size stuff has to be delivered, but given the fact that we're understaffed, anyway, and it's a Saturday on top of it, there was just nobody around who could come along with me. It's impossible to get this off the van and transport it inside all alone, not to mention that doors have to be held open and all that… so thanks for stepping in."

Camille shouted from the veranda on the side "Doors are all open, guys – come this way!" and directed them inside where they dropped the mattress on the bed frame. Camille pulled off the protecting plastic and handed it to John. "Here, you can take that with you again. What else is on your van?"

John scratched his head and replied "Not much. I think there's a table and four chairs for the veranda, the new curtains and a box full of crockery… oh, and two framed pictures."

The pictures came in cardboard boxes and were taken inside, along with the curtains and the crockery, the table and the chairs were stored away in the shed behind the house.

"Is that everything, Camille?" Dwayne asked, and she nodded.

"I want to check on a few details before I go, but you don't have to stay if you have other plans. You know Fidel and Juliet will come tomorrow to get the rest done, and I want to see if there's anything else I might want to get before we finish the job."

"Then – if you don't mind – I'll hit the road – John can give me a lift," Dwayne explained.

Camille waved when the van drove off, then she turned around to have another look at what they had accomplished this afternoon. There were a few more things that needed to get done, but she was confident that they'd manage just fine tomorrow afternoon.

She went inside to check the colour of the curtains and gave an appreciative hum when she discovered they were a lovely shade of tan – depending on how the light reflected on them, the colour almost looked like reed. It was all so ' _vintage'_. She loved that!

She knew the store where the curtains had been purchased also had matching cushions that came in the same basic colours, but featured some light contrasts – nothing too glaring, of course… so why not get a few to spice up the plain reed coloured sofa? A few decorative cushions wouldn't do any harm… and they'd surely make the sofa more comfortable.

She took out her phone and added that to the list of things she wanted to get before going home. Then, she went through the house and checked all the windows, making sure they all were shut. Finally, she closed the door behind her and locked it.

On the way to the Rover, she checked her phone again and found a text from her mother. It said 'It's all cut and dried. Details when you come home!'

She had a certain spring in her step as she got into the car.

It was all going to be just perfect – she knew it…


	17. Perspectives

Chapter 17 - Perspectives

It was around eight in the evening, and Camille had finally arrived at La Kaz – the Rover was loaded with all sorts of things that she had bought in the late afternoon. There were cushions, a few framed photographs of the island, a cuddly blanket for the sofa… but also practical things, like a hamper for magazines and newspapers, a vintage looking dishrack and a matching kitchen roll holder – and last, but not least, an oven-proof casserole dish.

She had known she could be generous and splurge on stuff – not that she had overdone it, but she hadn't been stingy, either – because she'd get it all reimbursed. She didn't have a bad conscience at all – all these things were necessities in one way or another – and it had been fun to get so many nice things without having to worry about money.

After her shopping spree, she had been tempted to drive up to the cliff that was known as 'Lover's Leap' – it was a popular place for romantic dates, but she had always just come for the view. Nobody had ever invited her to come here – well, she had been here with friends from school a couple of times, giggling and poking fun at the young couples in their cars – but since she had left for France a few months after graduation, she hadn't really had much of a chance to get romantically involved with anyone here on Saint Marie… There had been a few dates in clubs and bars, kisses and caresses on the beach… but nothing beyond that.

Her _real_ romantic dates had taken place in France… at the seaside, at rivers, in restaurants, even at snackstands… none of them had been on Saint Marie. Of course, she was familiar with the 'romantic places' here, but not from first hand experience.

So, Lover's Leap was not connected to all sorts of romantic memories for her. She just liked sitting there and staring out to the horizon – it was her second favourite spot after the beach.

But then she had realised that it would most likely be crowded on a Saturday evening – and she would feel displaced. It was always better to go on a weekday…

So she had steered the Rover to a beach that was mostly popular with the locals – it was pebbled, and a lot of tourists preferred the sandy beaches. It hadn't mattered to Camille – she had just wanted to sit and think a little.

She had wondered how Richard might have been faring today. It had been a bit disappointing not to hear from him, but she had assumed that he had things to catch up on, and he'd get in touch if he really wanted to. She had understood that he would try hard to pretend that everything was okay and that Elvis's departure wouldn't make any difference to him. Why on earth he couldn't openly admit that it was hard, she would never understand. He had been so devastated when she had found him sitting in his shack after Prissy had picked up Elvis at the station… and he had said that it had been harder than he had expected… why couldn't he let his feelings show a little more? They all _knew_ that he had established a special bond with the little fellow, why not be open about it?

But then again, one might argue that if they knew, anyway, why be demonstrative? Why go on about it and make it even harder that way? It was completely opposite to his usual way of complaining about things that couldn't be changed – like the heat, the rain or the sand on the beaches… which just showed again that losing Elvis was more important and had hit him very hard. He never really went on about important things… it was just the petty stuff that he moaned about continuously. Behind all that, he hid his deeper feelings… Camille knew that very well by know.

She had sighed. He could be difficult… their relationship had evolved _somehow_ , but in which direction they were going, she couldn't tell. She couldn't even say in which direction she'd want them to go exactly – she wasn't quite sure of what she wanted at all.

She had remembered how she had once asked him – exasperatedly – if he had ever been in love… His only answer had been a wordless irritated glance in her direction, clearly conveying that it was none of her business. She had known, of course, that he'd never tell her, and at that particular point, it had really just been a more or less rhetorical question. If she was honest, she had only posed it to underline that she considered him a clueless cold cynic who didn't believe in love.

She had wondered what had made him so cynical about people in general… he often suspected ulterior motives behind what people said, even when a remark was completely harmless… He must have been disappointed by people in his life… Could he ever trust – or show love and affection - again?

However, the way he had been with Elvis was encouraging. Maybe he had a lot to give but was afraid to open up to humans because of his experiences… it would take someone with a lot of patience to draw him out and show him that not everyone was a scam…

But then again, why did she bother? He wasn't exactly encouraging her, was he? There were no signs that he saw more in her than a friend, after all, so maybe she shouldn't dwell on all that any further…

Eventually, after some ruminating about the matter, she had decided not to think about it any more. They were _friends_ , and that would have to be enough… for now. Whatever else could come out of it would have to be taken slowly, carefully, without haste…

With a last glance to the sun that was melting with the ocean, she had got up and returned to the car. It would be interesting to hear more about the 'details' her mother had mentioned – and suddenly she had felt she couldn't wait any more to find out how everything had fallen into place, so she had started the car and driven off to Honoré again.

* * *

"So, there you are…" Catherine gave her a fond smile and ushered her to the patio. "Sit down – I'll bring you something to drink and a bite to eat... The Pattersons will be there any minute now – they can tell you the whole story. You will get to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, as they say…"

Camille sat down and heaved a sigh of relief. It was nice to finally be home again and have no further pressing projects that needed to be taken care of. Her mother brought her a huge pitcher of water and a glass, and just when she put the risotto milanese on the table, Selwyn and Suzanne Patterson arrived.

They both declined Catherine's offer to bring them food, so she brought them a glass jug full of white wine and three glasses.

The Pattersons made idle conversation while Camille was eating her dinner. They all knew they had time – after all, Camille already knew that their plan had worked out – she only wanted to hear the details of how they had succeeded… and of course, she was curious if there were further instructions.

Suzanne Patterson began to talk, and Camille listened, totally taken in by what the Commissioner's wife told her. She chuckled when she heard how Selwyn Patterson had painted a picture of bureaucratic hurdles, and his wife had added hints about how miserable it would make Elvis if he had to travel to Martinique by plane… When they reached the part where it had become clear that Prissy was pregnant, Camille's eyes widened. Like the Commissioner, she wanted to know how Suzanne Patterson had known – and she was in awe about the idea of insinuating that Elvis might get jealous of a baby.

"Mind you, I don't believe that he would – not one second… he's such a loving little creature… but then again, you never know…" she said. The Commissioner nodded gravely and interjected "You said that the Robinsons had no children, so he surely was used to being the main focus when he lived with them. At the shelter, he wasn't exposed to children, and obviously, he didn't have to share the Inspector's attention with anybody else, either… I see he's a very friendly little dog, and it seems that he's happy as long as he's taken care of, cuddled and looked after, but he appeared a little listless when I saw him with Prissy today. He clearly unbent when Suzanne began to cuddle him, but compared to how lively and… well, alert… he was when I came to the station the other day, I found him rather apathetic today…"

Camille took a sip of wine and replied thoughtfully "Mind you, I don't think that Elvis was very excited when Prissy came to pick him up again. He's stayed at the shelter for months, then he was with Prissy for six weeks or even less than that, and he lived with the Inspector for over two months – and I know that he… that he challenged Elvis quite a bit, and he liked that. Or let me rephrase this… the Inspector didn't see him as a decorative accessory. He set boundaries and implemented rules, he tried to teach Elvis certain things, and he played with him… I mean… Elvis _mattered_ to him, he was his companion, his _friend_. And I think Elvis responded to all this. I'm sure he misses the Inspector. With Prissy, his life is different and surely less interesting. I'm not saying she doesn't love Elvis, but she doesn't really know what to do with a dog whereas the Inspector has a fairly clear idea of what to expect and what to give in this… relationship, for lack of a better word…"

The Commissioner looked at her in amazement when she said that Richard had been _playing_ with Elvis. He obviously had a hard time believing that, but his wife smiled amicably and said that she could easily imagine him doing that.

"He's a very starchy man on the outside, that's for sure," she mused, "but I do think that he can be rather different, just as long as he knows nobody is watching – or that the people who could be watching can be trusted. He's fairly self-conscious and has an old-fashioned sense of propriety, and on top of that, I believe he's scared of being ridiculed. So, he won't let his hair down – forgive me the metaphor, I know it sounds silly – as long as other people are around. Didn't you say he had relatives who had a dog whom he dearly loved? That might be why he has a knack for dealing with Elvis. I'm actually quite happy to learn about this character trait – it gives me hope that he'll open up more eventually. Not that he'll _ever_ be a very gregarious man. But well, we'll see… How is he dealing with the situation altogether, Camille? Have you heard from him at all?"

Camille shook her head and replied "I think he wants to try and cope with it all on his own – as far as he possibly can. I had hoped to hear from him today, but no such luck. Maybe he'll give me a call tomorrow, but I'm not sure he will call at all. In any event, I know that he'll go to Guadeloupe on Monday – he'll have his day off then, and he said to me that he feels it will do him good to get a change of scenery."

Selwyn Patterson nodded in appreciation. "That's a good idea. So, you, Fidel and Juliet will give the place the final touch tomorrow? I'll let you know when I'll come round to the station on Tuesday, but don't expect me before lunchtime…"

They continued to chat a little, and Camille told them more about all the things she had bought. Apologetically, she said "I hope it's okay, sir. You said I could spend up to a certain amount, and I haven't even got there, so…"

The Commissioner made a dismissive gesture and said "No worries, Camille. As long as it helps, I'm all for splurging…"

Then he turned to his wife and asked "Aren't you getting tired, Suzanne? I must say that I can feel the wine getting to my head – it's been a bit much for me, so if you're ready, I'd say we'd better hit the road before I fall asleep in the middle of the conversation…"

Suzanne Patterson smiled leniently and said "Whatever you say, Selwyn… "

A few minutes later, Camille watched them leave the bar together… These two still seemed so happy together after all these years… She smiled and took another sip of her wine.

It was a good thing that she didn't hear what Suzanne Patterson said on the way home to her husband…

"Mark my words, Selwyn," she said, "Camille got it bad. Of course she doesn't fully realise it just _yet_ , but she will figure it out eventually. And from how you describe their interaction, I think that the Inspector has feelings for her, too. They may lie dormant for the moment, but let's hope that he will wake up some time, hopefully rather sooner than later. And let's also hope that when he wakes up, Camille is around. If she isn't, chances are that he'll overthink and play things down, ignoring his feelings out of fear to make a fool of himself."

Her husband gave her a sideways glance, but didn't say anything. He had been married to Suzanne for long enough to respect her intuitiveness and instincts.

Still, he was a little taken aback… Camille and Inspector Poole? That seemed like a _really_ odd idea… But then again… when he had been at the station recently, he had felt intrigued by the scene he had witnessed there.

Maybe, Suzanne's idea wasn't that far off the mark, after all…

* * *

Richard spent a lonely weekend all by himself. He couldn't believe what a difference it made that Elvis was gone. He had spent so many weekends on his own like this before, and he had always been content… Well, not always – he had felt lonely every once in a while. But he hadn't known it any different here on the island before Elvis had come into his life.

Of course, back home in the UK, he had gone out on weekends – he had visited museums, stately homes, science events, panel discussions, classical concerts and what-not – but ever since he had arrived here on Saint Marie, his weekends had been spent on his own, and he had got accustomed to a life that was even more solitary than in the UK.

Just when he had decided that things had to change, Elvis had come into his life, and things _had_ changed… would he go back to being lonely and withdrawn again now that Elvis was gone, or would he manage to stick to his resolve to enjoy life a bit more? Richard didn't know. He figured he'd have to try, but it seemed hard.

He dragged himself around the house on Sunday, resisting the wish to call Camille and talk to her – it wouldn't really make any difference, would it, and he had started to feel self-conscious and embarrassed about his recent behaviour after Prissy had shown up and taken Elvis with her. What had come over him to break down and lean on Camille like that?

Well, he hadn't asked her to come, she had showed up at his place… so, technically, he hadn't done anything 'wrong' – or maybe he had?

In any case, he shouldn't have lost it like that!

Granted, the team's efforts to handle the situation with discretion had made a huge difference, and he was grateful for their solidarity and tact, but he couldn't help but accuse himself of being a wimp and showing too much emotion. He shouldn't have done that. Yes, by now he knew that Camille wouldn't take advantage of this and use the knowledge about his weakness against him, but still… it was dangerous to show too openly how one felt about things. Or about people, come to think about it.

He was glad when Sunday came to an end and he lay in his bed. Tomorrow, he'd go to Guadeloupe and have the opportunity to get a little distraction. That was really all he needed – distraction. And maybe, he'd see something that would bring him new inspiration in regard to how he could fill his lonely evenings and weekends. Stargazing and reading was good and well, but he would need more than that to get his mind off the fun he had had over the past weeks with Elvis – and the pain he felt now that he was on his own again.

* * *

Camille was a little disappointed that Richard had never called her over the weekend, but deep down, she had not really expected anything else to happen. She had known him for over two years now, and although their relationship had shifted to a degree that she wasn't sure any more where exactly they were standing with one another, she hadn't been under the illusion that he would suddenly open up and turn into a communicative person. He'd always be difficult – it was just his personality. Still, she wished he'd let her in a bit more. What that would be good for, she didn't really know – maybe it was that she felt it would make their friendship more meaningful.

By the same token, his silence had given her the chance to get through her project without getting disturbed, and that gave her great satisfaction. She hoped that the new week would bring good things – the plan that Selwyn and Suzanne Patterson had concocted sounded promising, and she had certainly done everything to make her part of the scheme a success.

When she closed down the station at 5 p.m. on Monday, she went to the place on the beach again where she had spent so much time over the weekend and checked everything once more before going home to help her mother in the bar. At around 8 p.m., she received a phone call from Suzanne Patterson who explained that everything had gone according to their plan – and after that, her mind was at ease. Everything would work out just fine… and she couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.


	18. Miraculous Developments

Chapter 18 – Miraculous Developments

Richard was tired. The day on Guadeloupe had been interesting, but also rather exhausting, and he regretted having taken the _last_ ferry to Saint Marie – he really should have come back earlier than that. Not that the last ferry was extremely late – it arrived at Saint Marie just when it got dark, so it hadn't been later than 8.30 when he had got back to his little bungalow, but he hadn't had dinner on Guadeloupe – he had had lunch and a coffee, but that had been around 1 p.m., and by the time he'd arrived at home, he'd been ravenous. He didn't trust the food on the boat, so it had been out of the question that he would get a snack there… which had meant that he'd _have_ to eat something at home.

His fridge was nearly empty, so he had settled for a banana sandwich – not exactly what he had planned, but well – so be it. He'd have to go grocery shopping tomorrow then…

As he lay in his bed, he let the day pass by in review and realised that he had mixed feelings about it.

Yes, sure, it had done him good to get away for a while. A change of scenery could indeed make a difference. He had been to the art gallery and seen some fascinating (and some very strange) paintings and sculptures, and he had also browsed the shops – or rather, the few gentlemen's outfitters that were worth his attention and were on a par with his sartorial standards. He had bought a few more casual shirts – shirts that looked correct, but were a bit more loose and comfortable (and easier to take care of) - and – more or less in passing - he had also looked at household appliances. He had realised that he might need a new microwave rather sooner than later, and there was a wider range of products on Guadeloupe than on Saint Marie.

A thought crossed his mind as he was pondering which brand of microwave would suit him best – maybe he shouldn't invest in a new microwave at all?

Maybe he should just give up and go back to the UK. There wasn't anything (or anyone) holding him back, as far as he could see. Admittedly, he hadn't seen everything that was worth a visit on Guadeloupe – or on Saint Marie, for that matter – but still… why should he stay?

Yes, of course, he cared for his team. And his team seemed to care for him, too – but was that enough? Fidel and Dwayne had got used to other supervisors before, they would get used to yet another one after him for sure. Camille was his friend – and her friendship was more than he had ever had before in his life. It should be enough, but somehow it wasn't… although he wasn't sure why he felt that way. What if she met that mysterious tall, dark and handsome stranger that all women seemed to look out for, and she'd fall in love, get married and leave _him_ behind? It wouldn't be the same any more if she had a partner. And could he bear just having her friendship – without the prospect of their friendship ever getting deeper? And why did this seem important at all?

Admittedly, he had no reason to believe she saw more in him than her slightly weird boss and perhaps a friend – their bond had become stronger recently, but how strong was it really? Wasn't he interpreting too much into those rare moments of being in sync?

Surely, she would forget about him if he got re-transferred to the UK. She was French, and the French were pragmatic.

And he didn't quite know what exactly he wanted from her, anyway. Or what he could give her, for that matter, that she might want to have. And wasn't it pointless to think about all this, anyway?

For a moment, he tried to imagine what it would be like to have someone in his life constantly. A companion, a partner, a 'significant other'… He couldn't quite envision what that could be like – he had been on his own for too long. Actually, he had _always_ been on his own. That didn't keep him from wishing it was different – sometimes - but it was all useless. He wasn't in a fairytale where perfect princesses popped up left, right and centre – and who was he to expect a princess being interested in him, anyway?

Come to think of it, it was surely horribly stressful to deal with princesses as they might have a tendency to be capricious and complicated, so he shouldn't waste his time on thinking about that sort of thing.

Of course, how did you define 'perfect' – or 'princess'?

He turned over, and suddenly, in the twilight, he saw Harry skittering over the floor, and he sighed. He was a middle aged man, unloved and alone in this world – his only company was a bright green lizard who basically just tolerated him, more or less because of the food he put out for him…

He realised that he was tired. He was also hot and bothered. He was overthinking. He knew that he missed Elvis and felt lonely, no matter how much he had actually enjoyed his day on Guadeloupe. He would perhaps have enjoyed it even more if he had had someone to share it with. Although it had been fun to do things at his own pace and visit places that he had wanted to see in a while already, he had also seen people in groups everywhere, young couples, old folks with their longterm friends or partners, and – even worse! - people with dogs. The _worst_ of all, however, had been couples of any age with dogs…

Rationally, he knew that he had surely overlooked people who had been alone and maybe lonely, and the colourfulness of the scenery had made it easy to fall victim to that kind of selective perception. He sighed again. How come that after so many years of being on his own he still suffered sometimes? Why? And where was the point? Couldn't he just stop? Wasn't there some magic potion that he could take so he'd be happy with his 'circumstances'?

Oh well. And even if there were – he knew only too well that he'd be reluctant to even give it a try because he wouldn't believe in it.

This was all rubbish.

Miracles didn't happen.

Not in his life.

When he had reached this point in his train of thought, he realised that he was working himself into a downward spiral. This pity party was unhealthy, and it wouldn't help him one bit. He shouldn't let his tiredness or negative thoughts make him fall into doom and gloom. This wasn't the time for making decisions – he should sleep on it all, and tomorrow was another day – he'd certainly feel better then, and things would look differently. Not necessarily brighter, of course…

He rolled over, hugged his pillow and shut his eyes. Determinedly, he started reciting multiplication tables in his head… and ten minutes later, he was fast asleep.

* * *

There was a certain tenseness in the air when Richard entered the station on the next morning. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but his team seemed unfocused, and it almost was like they were waiting for something to happen. When they noticed how he observed them or gave them sideways glances, they pretended to be busy or tried to distract him… for a moment he was reminded of the memorable morning when he had encountered Elvis for the first time. However, he shoved that thought to the side – nothing like that would happen today. Elvis was history. He probably was just imagining things, anyway. He hadn't slept particularly well, and that was taking its toll, obviously.

Determined not to let it on, he immersed himself in his work, as boring as it was, and eventually, the atmosphere seemed to normalise. There were several phone calls, but other than that, nothing spectacular happened. Just as he was beginning to think about his lunch break and what he'd have to eat, the Commissioner's bulky silhouette obscured the light coming from the doorway, and the familiar voice boomed out "Good day, team…"

Nervously, Richard jumped up, uttering a feeble "Commissioner…", and Selwyn Patterson acknowledged him with a brief nod before he quietly said "I've come to discuss something with you, Inspector…"

He looked around for a moment and then added "… but I think this is not the place for doing so…"

Richard came up with an incoherent "Ah… well… if it's about the station… or organisational matters… I have no – um - secrets from the team", but he didn't get any further – the Commissioner didn't even listen. He gave him a little pat on the shoulder and said jovially "Mind you, we could combine business with pleasure and have lunch together at Catherine's bar, if you're up to it…"

That sounded like he was inviting him to have his last meal, Richard thought – however, he knew only too well that at least the 'inviting' part wouldn't happen, and in a moment of panic, he tried to remember if he had enough money in his wallet. Fumbling for his handkerchief to wipe his brow, he noticed the rustling of a slip of paper in his pocket, and relief flooded through him – it was his shopping list, and he always made sure he had enough money with him to pay at the stores, so he surely was reasonably flush with cash.

"Right – er… yes, thank you, Commissioner – sure, that sounds like a brilliant idea…" Good grief, he hated himself for being so nervous, but the truth was that there was something uncanny about Selwyn Patterson, and he had learnt to tread lightly in his presence.

Turning to Camille, Selwyn Patterson said solemnly "Now, Sergeant Bordey… the station is all yours. I'll abduct your Detective Inspector for a while. Do not expect him back all too soon…"

Then, with a brief nod to Fidel and Dwayne, he disappeared, with Richard in tow.

* * *

Awkwardly, Richard made conversation with the Commissioner while they were sitting at La Kaz, waiting for their food to arrive. He had no idea what this was all about. His mind was racing, trying to find a reason for Selwyn Patterson's 'invitation'… He hadn't messed up any of the recent cases or got into conflict with anybody 'important', so that couldn't be the point. Was it about his visit to the UK a while ago? No, that had been _weeks_ ago – if anything had been the matter, the Commissioner would have brought it up before now. Could it be about having adopted Elvis? Well, that matter had resolved itself – Elvis was gone. Prissy had taken him away from the island, and he'd never see him again, anyway.

For a moment, Richard's eyes got a bit misty – it was a good thing that the Commissioner didn't look his way, but rather focused on Catherine coming with their food.

Obviously, eating was an important act for Selwyn Patterson, something that had to be 'celebrated', and he focused completely on his meal, making occasional remarks on how good the meat, how well-seasoned the whole dish, or how lovely the texture of the vegetables on the side was. Richard felt torn between being relieved to have some sort of reprieve before his supervisor would rip him apart – because he was _sure_ that this would happen! – and being annoyed that he was left hanging, not knowing what this all was about.

Eventually, they had both finished their meal, and Catherine came to take away the plates. The Commissioner passed her an acknowledging glance and asked casually "Could you bring me some coffee, Catherine?" Looking over to Richard, he added "I suppose the Inspector will prefer tea, so…" Catherine nodded amicably and replied "Sure, Commissioner – I'll be back in a minute…"

Much to Richard's dismay, his supervisor began to sing Catherine's praise now and went on about how lovely this bar was and how well Catherine was managing everything… would he ever get to the point of this absurd get-together?

When Catherine had disappeared again after bringing them their hot beverages, the Commissioner pulled his chair closer to the table again and unhurriedly opened the sugar stick to pour its contents into his coffee. Surreptitiously, he watched Richard as he was stirring his coffee then… it had been fun to keep the Inspector on tenterhooks, but it was time now to spill the beans. It would be interesting to see how he would react…

Richard was just taking the first sip of his tea when Selwyn Patterson cleared his throat and said solemnly "I figure you're wondering what I'd like to discuss with you…"

His Inspector choked on his tea and hastened to utter a feeble – and somewhat incoherent - remark that was open to interpretation in any direction. The Commissioner suppressed a grin. It was indeed priceless to see how nervous Poole could get – the eloquent, self-assured cop who was brilliant at deduction, painstakingly accurate in collecting evidence and razor-sharp in his denouements after having solved cases, immediately got into a flurry when he felt out of his depth.

However, he ignored Richard's futile attempts to appear unruffled and continued "As it is, Inspector, I had a conversation with someone the other day, and it turned out that there are pressing issues that make it necessary for you to relocate…"

Richard nearly dropped the spoon he had absent-mindedly been playing with. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something. The Commissioner, though, didn't let him interrupt and went on to explain "This doesn't mean you'll leave Honoré or Saint Marie, for that matter. It just means you will have to move house. The bungalow that you live in sits on a piece of land that belongs to the Carson Ltd. – Toby Carson is a hotelier, as you might know, and he owns several hotels and affiliates here and on Guadeloupe – and other Caribbean islands, as far as I'm informed. Part of his business focuses on hotels, but he also owns and maintains other facilities that deal with more general aspects of tourism – infrastructure, service, restaurants, you name it. Your bungalow is leased, the basic rent is paid by the police, or the government, if you want to put it that way. It's a fixed allowance that we get, and as you know, the inspector in charge has to bear the expenses for electricity and all other extras that surpass the basic rent. I'm sure you are aware of the advantages of having government housing with these conditions…"

The notion 'government housing' was a bit pompous in that context, Richard thought, but yes, he was fully aware of how inexpensive his rent was and how this enabled him to save up more than he could have imagined.

The Commissioner continued "As it is, Carson needs the plot your bungalow is built on for some business project. He has plans for opening a small surfing school and a little bar on this beach. He did not explain in detail what his project is about, but he assured me that the unspoilt nature of the beach would not be changed. Now, of course he could just go ahead and do whatever he pleases – it's his land, and he can do what he wants – as long as he takes the legal framework and regulations into consideration and obeys the rules. But I believe he has realised that having a police officer living near the surfing school and the bar wouldn't be a great idea – it would have consequences for the business, and I'm fairly sure that you wouldn't be too happy to have all those people invading your privacy… as I know, you like the solitude and privacy of your place, and although you may not realise it, it is important to me as your supervisor to know that you are comfortable – so I have to consider all these aspects."

Fortunately, Richard managed to hide his surprise at these words, and Selwyn Patterson went on to explain how he had made efforts to find another place for him. And he had been successful - he had found just the _perfect_ spot – a place that couldn't be sold off or demolished, a place where the rent was moderate, and a place that had some more amenities and offered more space – and that was quiet and not far from his old bungalow, in another bay, with another beach… - "admittedly, it has some more pebbly patches than your current beach, but since you're not too fond of sand, anyway, I figured this might not count as a disadvantage in your eyes," the Commissioner remarked, and then he ended his little speech with a determined "I think you should have a look at the place now, so you'll get a better idea of what I'm talking about!"

With that, he motioned to Catherine who was waiting behind the bar and now came to bring the bill, and Richard's confusion got even bigger when he saw the Commissioner pull out his wallet and heard him say "I'll settle that. So, how much is it? Right… here you go, Catherine. Could you please print out a proper bill and receipt so I can claim this as an official working lunch, alright?"

Catherine was all smiles and obligingness, and a few minutes later, an entirely dazed Richard sat in the Commissioner's official vehicle that was taking him to a mysterious destination…


	19. Surprises

Chapter 19 – Surprises

It wasn't a long ride, and the Commissioner had been right – when they had arrived at their destination, Richard realised that it really wasn't all that far from his current place, maybe half a mile or so. So, if he had to move here, the additional distance would not require him to get a vehicle, it would be less than ten minutes more on foot.

Selwyn Patterson had given him some background information on the place, so Richard knew now that the plot belonged to extended family of the Commissioner's wife. He only knew the Smallwoods from hearsay – and it would stay that way because they wouldn't make an appearance. It would be similar to his current situation - they had let the place to the government, and the Commissioner was doing all the business in this instance.

So, if there were complaints or things to take care of, Richard would have to address to his supervisor – and while he wasn't always happy with how the Commissioner had taken influence on his life, he certainly couldn't claim that he had let him down when there had been serious complaints. When Richard had had trouble with the plumbing in his shack, the Commissioner had sent him a handyman who had taken care of things and fixed the problem, and whenever he had asked for help with bulky rubbish, someone had come round to take away whatever he had wanted to get rid of. He had never had to pay extra for that, and the service had been as prompt as possible – which didn't mean much in the Caribbean, but once Richard had got to the point of accepting this, he had realised that he had no reason to complain. Not that this stopped him from making snarky remarks every once in a while when a handyman didn't show up at the appointed time, but he had pretty much resigned to the situation, to be honest.

The house was larger than his current place. The Commissioner explained that the Smallwoods had originally planned to let it out as a holiday bungalow, but somehow they had never got the hang of the marketing part, and they hadn't had much luck with their project.

"It was their son's idea, and as long as he was here to take care of the whole thing, it went kind of – er – smoothly, although they already had problems then. After he had left the island, they've found it more and more difficult to keep up with things, and they're not the kind of people who will respond straightaway to e-mails or requests from booking platforms, so by the time they'd got round to reacting, their potential customers had given up on them and got accommodation elsewhere," the Commissioner explained with a sigh as they stood on the veranda.

He took out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. There was no entrance area or corridor – the door opened directly into an open space that contained a generous kitchen unit, complete with a neat-looking dining area as well as a small but cosy living area with a comfy-looking sofa, a wooden rocking chair and some lovely cushions in appealing colours.

There was an elevated platform-like area towards the other side of the room, and Richard saw that there were French doors, leading outside to a small tiled patio, surrounded by half-height walls that were painted in white. He noticed the flowers of a pink bougainvillea growing in one corner, and there were a few other plants as well.

Two three-drawer-dressers framed the doors, small vintage lamps were placed on top of them. It all looked very inviting.

Richard was surprised to see that everything was in tip-top condition – at least at first glance. The floor was tiled, a large fan was fixed to the ceiling, and the faint scent of fresh paint was hovering in the air.

His supervisor explained "It's been freshly renovated, all appliances have been checked, and a few things have been replaced, like the microwave and the oven / stove combination. The refrigerator is a couple of years old, but still going strong, as the electrician confirmed. The house has been re-wired a while ago and checked again this week, and according to the information I got, electricity, water supply, and phone service are more reliable than at your current place. Of course, there'll be lapses and blackouts from time to time, as they happen all over the island every once in a while, but all in all, it shouldn't happen to an _overproportional_ extent. The furniture is partly new, and the curtains have been replaced, too. The kitchen is fully equipped…"

He pulled out a drawer, and Richard saw that the cutlery was all new and shiny, and when he opened a cabinet's door, he saw new crockery in tasteful colours waiting to get put to good use. There was a new kettle, a vintage dish rack, and brand spanking new dishtowels were hanging on a railing fixed to the wall, right above the stove.

"There are two more rooms…" The Commissioner opened the doors to the respective rooms – the bigger one (painted in off-white with sky blue accents) that also had doors going out to the patio - was furnished as a bedroom, with a king-sized bed and nightstands on either side of it, some rugs that matched the sky blue bedcover, a chest of drawers and a large closet with sliding doors, the other one (completely painted in off-white) was smaller, and equipped as a 'den' or a 'study' – with a desk, some shelves and an office cabinet, all made of light wood, plus a generous chaiselongue. It was dark grey, and cushions in teal and light grey were sitting in the corner. A teal coloured fleece blanket was placed over the armrest that could obviously be folded down so the while thing could be turned into a single bed for a visitor. A light grey carpet completed the interior.

The bathroom was small, but still more spacious than the little cubicle that Richard had at the moment, and there was a brand new washing machine, too. The tiles were off-white, with the occasional decorative element dotted in between – seashells, seahorses, fishes - and a matching edging in various shades of blue rounded it off. It could easily have come across as fussy, but whoever had designed it had been careful not to overload the small room. Instead of a curtain that would have made the room appear cramped, there was a plain glass screen to partition off the shower, and thick light blue towels were hanging on the rails.

Richard noticed that he floor tiles were laid out diagonally in the entire house – he knew that this was a fairly common trick to make a place look bigger, and it made this house appear very lavish and generous, indeed.

Selwyn Patterson explained "I think there's a laundry rack and an ironing board in the bedroom closet – if not, there's still enough time to purchase these items…"

Turning around to Richard – who was speechless – he raised his eyebrows and asked "So, what do you think?"

His inspector clearly was at a loss for words. He had expected to get ripped apart for whatever reason, instead he had been offered a new, pleasant, airy, almost luxurious house, a place that obviously was much more comfortable than his current accommodation… a place that he could actually call _home_. He had got used to his shack with time, but there were quite a few drawbacks he's had to deal with, and he had been frustrated beyond belief with some of them over the two years of his stay. At the same time, he had been unwilling to look for something new – he'd felt that the Met had thrown him into this disaster, and 'they' owed him something – they should also be the ones who'd get him out of the mess.

Of course, he had always known this wouldn't happen – so he had defiantly stayed where he was, not making an effort to get out of the hole they've dumped him in. He hadn't intended to release them from their duties by taking action.

The fact that the Commissioner had taken care of things now made it perfectly clear to Richard that Selwyn Patterson was aware of the 'debt'…

It was hard to believe, but perhaps he had been wrong when he had thought that miracles didn't happen, at least not in his life…

Eventually, Richard found his voice and stammered "I don't know what to say, Commissioner. It looks fabulous, and I'm sure… I'm sure I will feel quite comfortable here."

The Commissioner nodded gravely, then he said "I trust that you can pack up fairly quickly, Inspector. I'd like you to move within this week, actually, I could arrange for the movers to come and get it all done this Friday, if that's feasible for you. I understand that you don't have a lot of heavy things that you'd take with you, but still you'll need help, so…"

He looked expectantly into Richard's eyes, and when his totally overwhelmed Inspector gave a feeble nod, he smiled jovially and extended his hand. "So, it's a deal, Inspector?"

Richard took the proffered hand and shook it, still not quite sure what was happening here. Last night, he had considered moving back to the UK, and now he was accepting to move to a new house – a house that had been recently renovated just for him, if he had got that right.

On the way back to the station, the Commissioner remarked casually "Your team will be delighted. They have worked hard to make this place look friendly and welcoming…"

Richard gave him an inquiring sideways glance, and Selwyn Patterson explained "Oh, it got renovated and refurbished by professionals, of course, in a bit of a whirlwind campaign, so to speak, but your team helped a great deal last weekend when it came to deciding on general amenities and arranging furniture… It was clear that they want you to feel comfortable in your new home. Of course, there was a lot of stuff that could still be used, and I made sure that the Smallwoods equipped the place with reliable appliances, and naturally with basics like some towels, dishtowels and bedlinen, but Camille put in quite some time to select extra sets as well as curtains and cushions and decorative items…"

Richard felt how he was slowly changing colour – and why did he suddenly feel so hot? His team – particularly _Camille_ \- had done all this for him?

While he was still trying to get his head around all this, the Commissioner kept talking, and after a few moments, Richard realised that he had changed the subject and spoke about something different…

"You know how I mentioned a while ago that we were granted some extra funds for a volunteer programme? I've always said it's a waste of good money, and I have been reluctant to look out for aides… I thought it might be a useful programme in other parts of the world, but here in the Caribbean, I'm not sure if people have the mentality for that sort of thing, and most likely, if we pursued that programme, we'd end up with people who'd be over-motivated but entirely clueless… and obviously I'm not keen on that kind of trouble."

Suddenly petrified, Richard smelled a rat – he realised now that the Commissioner had shown him this house to make him feel grateful and appreciated, only to come down on him like a ton of bricks with something that he knew he clearly rejected and disapproved of… the volunteer programme was a red rag for him, he hated the concept of letting lay people do police work, even if it was the more basic and mundane part of it. No, he didn't want that 'sort of thing', either, and he had been happy that his supervisor seemed to see it the same way – and for the life of him, he couldn't understand why he had changed his mind…

But well, he'd have to grin and bear it – and give it at least a try. He felt a little let down and betrayed now, and the feeling of elation he had just had a few minutes ago had disappeared in an instant.

However, he pulled himself together. It was pointless to rebel against the Commissioner's decision – so he just gave a brief nod and said "As you wish, Commissioner. I'll do my best to make the volunteer welcome – of course there'll be things I cannot give out of hand, but…"

"Oh, don't worry," replied the Commissioner, making a dismissive gesture, "there'll be training, and I'm sure that he's got the right attitude. If he stands the test, I'm sure we'll gain a faithful and – er – devoted new team member…"

They turned into the street that led up to the station, and with a frown, Selwyn Patterson checked the time, muttering "Late again… I could have sworn that would happen…"

Richard wasn't quite sure what or whom his supervisor was referring to, but he tried being hospitable and forthcoming for a change and suggested "We might as well wait inside, sir – we do have some cool drinks in the fridge, so – er – if you'd like a refreshment…"

They walked up the stairs and were greeted by the team who looked at Richard apprehensively. He realised that he would have to come up with a thank-you-speech and was just about to try and find the right words when the Commissioner's phone buzzed and he went to the far end of the porch to be undisturbed. An awkward, almost tangible silence fell on the the group of people gathered at the entrance door. Before Richard could have said anything sensible, though, Patterson had returned, a broad smile on his face.

"No worries, Inspector, only a few more – er – seconds…" – and then they heard the squealing noise of a car braking abruptly in front of the station, right where the stairs began.

A harrumphing sound came from the Commissioner, but he refrained from calling out to the offensive driver – which didn't surprise anyone when they saw that it was indeed his wife Suzanne.

Richard was puzzled – hadn't the Commissioner said the volunteer was a 'he'? It couldn't be his wife then – which would bring a conflict of interests, anyway… Was it another family member? Richard hoped this sudden suspect wouldn't materialise – he didn't approve of nepotism in any way… Not to mention that he didn't really want a 'spy' in the team…

Mrs Patterson smiled charmingly – and _slightly_ apologetically - from the bottom of the staircase, exclaiming "So sorry for being late, everybody! There were a few – er – unexpected issues with picking up our volunteer… but we got here, after all!"

There was nobody in sight, but the Pattersons' car had smoked windows, so Richard assumed that whoever the volunteer was, they'd be inside the car, waiting to get introduced. He didn't notice how Camille, Dwayne and Fidel exchanged surreptitious glances, how the Commissioner suppressed a smile and how Suzanne Patterson winked at her husband as she put out her hand to open the back door of the car.

Then the door of the car swung open, and before Richard could grasp what was happening, a loud howling sound broke the (relative) silence of the afternoon, there was a commotion as whatever it was scrambled out of the vehicle, and then a familiar little creature scampered up the staircase, huffing and puffing.

Considering that the staircase had always been a bit of a challenge for little short-legged Elvis, he made it up to the veranda in record time. He stopped in front of the completely gobsmacked Richard and let out an incessant yowl, trying to jump up Richard's legs. That finally brought life again to the Inspector who had literally been frozen to the spot. He couldn't think, though – there was no time. He could only react. There was nothing but joyful surprise on his face when he kneeled down to pet and cuddle Elvis, trying to calm him down and get a grip on his own overwhelming emotions.

Several minutes passed, and nobody disturbed the little love scene that unfolded there in front of their eyes. Elvis found a million ways to show Richard how much he had missed him, and Richard couldn't stop petting, cuddling and stroking his little friend. Yes, he was even hugging him – and Elvis very nearly managed to lick his master's face… only a quick turn of his head saved Richard from getting slobbered by the panting pooch. The fact that the hygiene-obsessed Inspector didn't break out into a tirade about sanitariness said a lot about his current state of mind…

It was all was benevolently watched by everyone at the station… Mrs Patterson had come up the stairs after Elvis and stood by her husband who took her hand and squeezed it, Fidel and Dwayne were grinning, and Camille stood in the doorway, her arms folded, a happy smile on her face, her eyes slightly misty.

It was absolutely heart warming to witness this reunion, and they all were touched with how openly the usually so buttoned-up and reserved Detective Inspector that they all knew showed his joy and happiness – emotions that most of them had believed him incapable of – about seeing his little friend again.

Finally, Selwyn Patterson cleared his throat and asked "So, what do you think, Inspector? Can you make a reliable team member out of this – er - slightly grubby little rascal who's keen on volunteering here?"

Richard's shining eyes spoke volumes when he looked up to his supervisor's face…


	20. Counting Down

Chapter 20 – Counting down

It was almost too good to be true, Richard mused when he sat on the blanket box on his veranda, brushing Elvis's fur and listening to the dog's faint snoring. Only a few days ago, he had felt that the world had come to an end, and he had been miserable and in very low spirits. If Camille hadn't come to the rescue, he would have fallen into a depression – or into an ocean of self-pity. Neither was a desirable place to be… Yesterday night, he had considered leaving and going back to the UK, and now he was here, sitting on his veranda, with Elvis, planning his imminent move to a nicer house - and everything was perfect.

Well, _nearly_ perfect.

Something was missing, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly it was.

He knew it was not the fact that Harry had gone hiding as soon as he had set eyes on Elvis after his return. No, that didn't bother him – Harry would come round eventually. He and Elvis had a silent agreement – or whatever it was… After a week at Richard's house, Elvis had accepted that none of his attempts to catch the little green lizard had been crowned by success, and he had steadfastly ignored him from then on. Harry, on the other hand, had stopped moving in Elvis's immediate surroundings. He still had come and gone as he'd liked, but he had stayed away from Elvis. So, these two had found a way of co-existing.

So, that wasn't the problem.

In his usual analytical manner, he reconstructed how the evening had gone so far…

They had all gone for a drink at La Kaz to celebrate after what had been left of the workday, and then Camille had taken him and Elvis home in the Rover. She had helped him to take out all the things again that belonged to Elvis, and they had had fun watching him taking repossession of the towels, blankets and toys, but then – just when Richard – elated and encouraged from the events of the day - had worked up the nerve to ask her if she fancied going for a walk with Elvis and himself and was about to open his mouth, she had explained that she couldn't stay as her mother's kitchen hand was away from the island for a week, so Catherine was in a bit of a pinch.

Camille had added "And I suppose Elvis will want to have you all to himself now, anyway. He's been pretty excited to see you again, hasn't he… Quite the opposite of what happened when Prissy showed up again, as Dwayne told me!"

With that – and a twinkle in her eyes - she had disappeared, and Richard had had to go for walkies with Elvis on his own. He had enjoyed it – immensely! - but he just couldn't help it – he had felt a little let down.

At this point, he realised that the nagging feeling he had been struggling with all evening had to do with Camille's absence. His eyes widened in shock when he understood that he would have liked to have her around.

No, that couldn't be. Or could it?

He brushed this sudden thought aside and quickly shoved it into a drawer of his mind that he kept for things he didn't want to think about. It was confusing enough the way it was – it wouldn't do him good to dwell on it all…

Rationally, there was no reason why she should have stayed, given the circumstances, and reason and rationality were all that counted in life…

He directed his thoughts to the new place that he would move to soon… He admitted to himself that he was totally perplexed by what the whole team had done for him in regard to the new house. Why would they make all these efforts and go out on a limb for him like that?

According to Catherine – who had brought them champagne to celebrate and refused to accept payment for this (Richard was secretly relieved, but also secretly ashamed of feeling that way!) – Camille had spent much of her spare time at the house, and when she hadn't been there, she'd been browsing shops and getting things for the place. Apparently, the Commissioner had given her a certain budget, and she had splurged on getting all sorts of accessories and decorative items… Not that he was crazy about _things_ in general, but they surely made the place more cosy and 'homey'…

Dwayne had mentioned that he hoped Richard would make the most of the new mattress because it obviously was top quality and weighed at least several tonnes – judging from how his whole body had ached after bringing it into the house. Fidel had joked about how Camille had bossed him and Juliet around when it had come to getting everything organised in the house. Camille had smirked and remarked that without her telling everyone what to do, _nothing_ would have happened, and they all had ended up laughing. It had been fun to listen to their banter…

His team might not be perfect, and sometimes they all got on his nerves… but they had brought so much laughter into his life, and strange enough, he felt that he was part of the gang. At least sometimes. He wondered if it was Camille who was responsible for that – it certainly made a difference whether or not she was around…

Before he knew it, his thoughts had returned to Camille and her motives… Why would she do that all for him? He hoped it meant that she cared. But maybe he was interpreting too much into her actions.

She was pragmatic and professional in anything she did. Most likely she had figured a certain style would suit the place and bought things according to that.

It wasn't anything personal…

It couldn't be.

* * *

The next couple of days followed pretty much the same pattern like the weeks before Prissy had come back to pick up Elvis – only that the little dog was even more attached to Richard and followed him like a shadow wherever he was going. When he was sitting at his desk, Elvis was rolled up right by his feet – which sometimes was a little too warm for Richard's liking, but he happily put up with it and didn't complain once. He was just too happy to be reunited with Elvis.

And Elvis clearly was grateful for being reunited with Richard! He had not enjoyed staying at Stephanie's house together with Prissy – he hadn't really felt very welcome there. Prissy had basically ignored him most of the time, and Stephanie had made him feel like he was dirt. Whenever he had come in from the tiny patch of grass that she called her garden, she had made a big song and dance about his paws being dirty, and his attempts at getting either of them to play with him had got cut off with loud words and nasty gestures. He had wondered what he had done to be taken away from Richard and his team – but obviously, there was no way back for him.

Then, however, Prissy had taken him to Catherine's bar, and he had met the friendly lady with the melodious voice whose husband had made Richard feel nervous – she had scratched him between his ears and petted him… and after that encounter, something had shifted. Prissy had been a bit more attentive, and then one evening, she had packed up his squeaky toys and his blanket and set off for a long walk with him. Finally, they had arrived at a nice house with a huge garden, and the friendly lady had been there – her slightly creepy husband, too, obviously, but he had somehow shapeshifted and behaved very nicely towards him – Elvis – that evening. In the morning, he had disappeared, and Elvis had spent a very enjoyable time in the garden, playing fetch with the friendly lady. She had also spoilt him with some excellent food, and he had wondered if maybe this was his new home. Prissy hadn't reappeared – she had hugged him the night before when she had left, but she hadn't come back.

Elvis had known that he'd always miss Richard… but if he couldn't return to him, the friendly lady wasn't all that bad, either. He might even get used to the creepy husband for her sake. Anything would be nicer than the animal shelter. They had been friendly there, but it was so much better to actually _belong_ to someone and have their undivided attention.

Then, however, while he had been resting on his blanket on the patio, he had heard the nice lady taking out her car, and he had jumped up to hide in the house. He hadn't wanted to be taken away again…

It hadn't helped him, though – she had found him, and with some coaxing, she had managed to lure him out from under the bed – and before he had known what had happened, he had been sitting in the back of her car. He had resigned himself to his fate then, but then he had realised where the car was going, and when the door was finally opened, nothing could have stopped him – he had scuttled off in a hurry and climbed up that staircase to be with Richard again. He had been excited to be with him again – and it seemed that his master had been happy to see him, too…

Formally, Elvis was now listed as a volunteer / extra of the Saint Marie Police Force, and the Commissioner had granted the station a small 'general' budget for extraordinary expenses, like fees for obedience classes, necessary vaccinations, veterinary bills and the like, and Richard also had a monthly budget at his disposal that should cover part of Elvis's food and general care – that would include the occasional new toy as well as some more 'exquisite' treats every once in a while.

Everyone in the team was pleased to have him back, even Dwayne had admitted grudgingly that it was good to have him at the station again, "although he can be a terrible nuisance", as he had remarked.

Elvis was happy with how things were going now – although he noticed that there were a few differences compared to what life had been like before Prissy had come.

Fidel and Dwayne hadn't changed, but he sensed that Richard and Camille behaved somewhat differently now… there had always been a bond between these two, but Elvis heard that there was a new undertone in their voices now when they talked, and he also sometimes noticed a certain tension in the air when Fidel and Dwayne were out on their market patrol and Camille and Richard were alone at the station. It was very subtle, and sometimes it wasn't noticable at all, but generally it seemed to him that they were both waiting for something to happen, without really knowing what that could be or without even having a clue that they were 'on hold'.

And sometimes it seemed that their words and actions weren't in sync. But then, humans were strange creatures… He just hoped they'd get back to their normal behaviour eventually so he could relax and feel completely safe again.

* * *

Richard and Camille, of course, had no idea of Elvis's 'observations'. Neither of them realised that their behaviour towards each other had shifted a little since Camille had come to cook dinner for him. Richard had always been confused around Camille, and she had always been exasperated by his antics – that hadn't changed at all. Richard, however, felt that he was even more nervous than before around his Detective Sergeant, and Camille was like a water kettle under pressure in his presence – sizzling away and close to exploding. Both of them tried to ignore their respective feelings, though.

Richard was embarrassed by how he had broken down after Elvis's departure, and it had alarmed him that he had felt the urge to call her over the weekend. However, he had always been good at putting on blinkers, so he managed not to engage his brain too much into this whole thing.

But he still was confused, and he felt even more awkward in Camille's presence. At the same time, he wanted to be near her – though he fought the feeling. It was odd and completely illogical!

Camille, by the same token, felt her inner tension was silly and pointless – just because she had spent so much time and effort into getting his new house into shape, he wouldn't fall down on his knees and be forever grateful. She could call herself lucky if he actually thanked her at all… And she knew only too well that he was trying to brush his recent 'weakness' (as he surely saw it) under the carpet by never speaking about it again – Richard Poole had no feelings, his behaviour and judgement were always based on logics and rationality…

Still, she felt edgy when he was around, no matter how much she knew he'd never change – he'd rather cut off his hand than admit that he had felt lost and lonely. No matter how much they had confabulated during her visits at his shack – he would not concede that he had needed someone to lean on… that he had needed _her_.

* * *

The team went to La Kaz most evenings after work, and since Richard was supposed to move on Friday, he spent the time after his return home packing up things. Of course he also had Elvis to take care of – so his time was split between going for walkies, playing with the mutt and trying to get everything packed up. Of course, Elvis initially had tried to 'help', but after some serious admonishment from Richard's side, he had given up on that and preferred sulking on his bed. He didn't quite understand what was happening – if this wasn't a game to entertain him, what on earth could all this to-and-fro mean?

Fidel had brought a couple of boxes, and although Richard didn't really have many belongings at the shack, he knew only too well that whatever he didn't take with him would be scrapped, and there were a few things that were too good for going to the rubbish dump.

He didn't want or need to take any of the furniture with him as the new place came fully furnished, but there were other things like the puzzles that he had 'inherited' from Charlie Hulme (there hadn't only been the one with the British telephone box that he had done during his first year on Saint Marie – Richard had unearthed a few more that had been hidden in the closet), the tin boxes full of tea that he had accumulated, his dry food supplies like pasta, rice, spices etc., and a handful of mugs and bowls that he had become fond of.

The real 'problem' – besides the 'Roast Beef' - were the books. Fortunately, the new house had a couple of sturdy bookshelves in the small room that was furnished as a study. That room would serve him well – he'd also store Lucy, his precision optical instrument, there, along with a few other things…

Eventually, everything was boxed up, and the shack was looking impersonal and almost sterile, even to Richard who liked things to be tidy and organised. On Friday morning, Richard packed up Elvis's towels, blankets and toys – they went into the big blanket box that he was planning to put on the veranda – and his bedlinen – he'd have new sheets and even a light duvet at the new place (much to his delight, there was a full-functioning ceiling fan in the bedroom, so maybe the light duvet would get put to use every once in a while!), but wanted to keep this particular set as well as he had bought it only last year.

He had breakfast, and then, on the way out, grabbed the last banana from the 'fruit bowl'… and with a start, he stopped in his tracks. This fruit bowl or dish or whatever it was… it wasn't particularly pretty, but it had been useful, and since Camille had used it for her casserole last week, he had looked at it with different eyes... He hadn't intended to take it with him, but now he took it from the worktop and stuffed it into the last open box - and before he could change his mind again, he closed the box with packing band and left the shack, with Elvis in tow.

* * *

As the Commissioner had suggested, Richard left work early so he'd be home when the movers came. They arrived shortly after he had come home, so he didn't have any time to feel melancholic or reminiscent.

Fortunately, everything went smoothly – they loaded his belongings on their pick-up and took everything to the new place – including him and Elvis. They left the boat, though – it would get transported to the other beach over the weekend.

The bigger part of his team waited for them to arrive - Camille still was at the station, though. She had taken it upon her to close down everything and promised to come round later to help with the final touches.

Dwayne and Fidel helped the movers with the boxes, and eventually everything was in place, so there was nothing more to do for them. Richard politely bid them farewell – he couldn't wait for everyone to leave. He was tired, and he still had to take Elvis for his walk.

Finally, when they all were gone, Richard sat down on the veranda of his new place, trying to figure out how he felt. It had all gone so quickly, and when he had been here to look at the house with the Commissioner a few days ago, he hadn't had the time to get more than a superficial impression of the surroundings. He did like the view – it was of course different from his old beach, but it was pretty. As the Commissioner had pointed out, it was more pebbly here, but Richard didn't mind that. There were several palm trees, the same sort of bushes that he knew from his old beach and a couple of plants he had seen before but couldn't name. The house was a little closer to the water than his old place, but that meant the sound of the waves was a bit louder – which was fine with him.

It was all very idyllic, and he felt that he could get used to it.

He closed his eyes – just for a moment, as he said to himself… - and within seconds, he had fallen asleep…


	21. A New Beginning

Chapter 21 - A New Beginning

Everything was silent when Camille arrived at the bungalow. A shoebox in one hand and a neatly wrapped giftbox in the other, she walked around the little house to access the veranda. The sight she was presented there took her by surprise… Richard – still wearing his smart suit trousers and his dress shirt (though the sleeves were rolled up, and he had taken off the tie) - sat there in one of the new, high-backed chairs, fast asleep – and at his feet, Elvis – of course on an old towel - had rolled up to a ball, snoring faintly. Richard's head had rolled to one side, his face was relaxed and looked surprisingly young, and Elvis was snuggled up to his master's feet.

It was a sight for sore eyes, Camille thought and considered taking a photo of the scene. But then she decided against it and tiptoed into the open house, carefully avoiding making any noise. The giftbox went on the dining table, then she lifted the shoebox to her ear and tried to figure out if there was any sound – yes, there was! Reassured, she put the shoebox next to the gift and looked around.

Richard had already put his stamp on the place – the tea tins were on display, she spotted some kitchen utensils from his old place… and there was his 'fruit bowl', filled with bananas, and there even was a mango!

Camille smiled. The 'bowl' didn't fit in at all – she had made a point of finding items that matched the general atmosphere and ambiance of the house, and this dish definitely didn't fulfil any of those criteria… but he had kept it and already put it to good use.

Somehow, she was glad about that.

She remembered how he had protested when she had cooked her pasta dish in it – it seemed hard to believe that this had only been a little over a week ago… Amazing how things had panned out since then…

At the far end of the room, where the French doors opened to the patio, she saw the chaos that was Elvis's bed – the battered cushion, a blanket and several towels. So obviously, Elvis had already chosen where he would take his naps.

Richard's jacket was hanging neatly over one of the chairs' backrest, his tie was draped over one shoulder, the briefcase was sitting on the floor next to the chair.

She took a peek into the other rooms and was satisfied with what she saw. There were several boxes labeled 'BOOKS & PUZZLES' and a wrapped up bulky item labeled 'LUCY' in the spare room, and she saw a box labeled 'BEDWARE' in the bedroom.

The sliding door to the closet wasn't entirely shut so she could see a sleeve of a woollen suit. Why he still insisted on wearing his suits was beyond her, but well, it was his decision. Heaven knew they had all tried everything to make him reconsider, but to no avail… At least he seemed to wear lighter stuff during his time off these days. The chinos and short-sleeved shirts she had seen on him during her evening visits looked good on him… so much less uptight!

Her eyes fell on the sky blue curtains framing the French doors, and with a dissatisfied wrinkle of her nose, she saw that the fall of the folds wasn't accurate – she'd have to fix that later on.

But before she'd do that, she'd have to take care of another important task…

She returned to the kitchen area, took the mango from the 'fruit bowl', cut it up and put the pieces on a saucer she angled out of her totebag, squishing them with a fork and adding the contents of a manila envelope - that she had also retrieved from her bag - to the mix. Honestly, it was _gross_ to carry around dead flies and bugs in an envelope, she thought when she looked down on the saucer – but well... sometimes you had to do weird things in life.

Then she tiptoed out of the house again, the saucer in one hand, the shoebox in the other. She looked around, scanning the veranda for a good spot, and then placed the saucer there. The shoebox was put down next to it, then she returned to the sitting area and gently touched Richard's shoulder. He stirred, but didn't wake up. She bent down, touched his shoulder again and whispered "Richard, wake up…"

"Hmmm…" he murmured, turning his head and rubbing his cheek at the back of her hand. His skin felt a little rough against hers – there wasn't any visible stubble, but it was clear that his last shave had been early in the morning. Somehow the feeling was bewildering, but it wasn't unpleasant.

On an impulse, she turned her hand to touch his face with her fingertips, then she smiled gently, reluctantly pulled her hand away, and said a little louder "Richard…"

With a start, he sat up and looked at her in confusion. "Ca… Camille…" he stuttered. "What are you doing here?"

She replied, a little defensively, "I promised to come round tonight, didn't I? So, here I am…"

He nodded, still a bit sleepy, and she continued, pointing at the shoebox at the far end of the veranda, "Look, I've brought you something…"

"What… what is it?" he asked, and she said playfully "Come and see!"

With a little groan, he moved to get up – Elvis wasn't bothered in the least, he just grunted, but didn't make any attempts at changing his position.

"A shoebox with holes, upside down," Richard stated when he had reached the other end of the veranda. He bent down and said "And a dish with mango… and bugs…" He looked up to Camille, a huge question mark on his face.

She prompted him impatiently "Open it – but be careful!"

When Richard cautiously lifted the box from the lid that sat on the floor, something moved – and out came… Harry the lizard! He seemed a little surprised with the unfamiliar environment, but otherwise appeared to be unfazed. With quick movements, he skittered away – clearly not impressed with the two humans who seemed keen on watching him eat. He'd return later for his meal… after he had explored his new surroundings…

Answering Richard's unasked question, Camille explained "I thought that you might like having him around, so I caught him for you. It was quite a challenge, but as you see… I succeeded in the end!"

Richard was touched - although he and Harry had always had a bit of an ambiguous relationship, he knew he would have missed him. Hopefully, Harry would accept the new place!

He knew that Camille expected – and deserved – a sincere 'thank you'. Not only for bringing Harry, but also for everything else she had done. Whether or not it was because she _cared_ – she had helped to make this place homely and personal, and he should let her know that he appreciated it.

But for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything intelligent to say – his brain still was a bit foggy, and so he let the moment slip by. A little disappointed, Camille turned around to go back inside, saying over her shoulder "I have also brought you a more tangible housewarming gift, if you're interested…"

He followed her inside, eager to make amends for his previous slowness, and saw the wrapped item on the table. The sound of the rustling paper as he unwrapped it made Elvis appear on the scene – his curiosity had been piqued, and also, he had missed Richard's presence. He was all awake now and burning for action, so he came closer and scuttled around the dining area, taking turns at scurrying around Richard's feet and smarming over Camille. Sadly, neither she nor Richard reacted to his presence… He wasn't too happy with how they ignored him, but he hoped his time would come eventually, so he decided to keep it up for a little longer.

"Ah, thank you, Camille," Richard said – a little unsure what he was holding in his hands. It looked like a big wooden coaster in the shape of a spiralled apple.

She sighed exasperatedly and took it out of his hands, turning it upside down, folding the top end of the spiral and hooking her finger into it. The whole thing unravelled, she fixed something at the bottom side, and – putting it down on the table - she said " _Voilà_ – it's a fruit basket."

Richard blushed, feeling a little dumb, and stuttered a "thank you" again, but Camille had already bent down to pet Elvis – who was happy that he had finally got the attention he had been craving for. He liked Camille – he loved her almost as much as he loved Richard, and he wanted her to know this, so he jumped up her legs and let out a huge wheeze. If that didn't impress her, he didn't know what else would…

She uttered a heartfelt "Good boy" and petted him - however, much to the little dog's disappointment, she stood up again quickly and said "I'm sorry – you're tired. I shouldn't have invaded your place like this. I won't stay long, but I thought I'd see how you have settled in."

She looked around appreciatevely and said "I'm sure you'll feel at home very quickly – it's a nice place, isn't it?"

Richard hastened to explain that he really liked the house and that he appreciated all the amenities it had. His brain had started to function again, and he finally found the right words to thank her for all the work and efforts she had put into this. She tilted her head to one side and said with what sounded like a slightly flirtatious undertone "You are welcome… It actually was fun!"

That was more than he could handle, and he blushed again. She saw him going beetroot and felt self-conscious about it… this all was a little weird. Since she wasn't quite sure what to do, she decided it was best to disappear soon… She'd better give him space, and she'd have to think a little more about her own feelings, too…

After a slightly awkward pause, she added "But I have skimped here and there – the curtains in your bedroom aren't as accurate as they should be, so let me fix this – and then I'll leave you alone… in your _new_ monastic cell… so you can get adjusted…"

Without listening to his feeble protests, she snatched a chair and carried it into the bedroom, not waiting for him to take out the little stepladder he had stored away in the spare room. Richard rushed after her, and Elvis followed, curious what would happen now. His two most favourite humans were acting very strangely this evening… He had to see if he could do anything to rectify this situation.

Camille kicked off her shoes and climbed on the chair, re-arranging the folds of the curtains while Richard watched her, slightly bemused and trying not to stare at the well-shaped long legs of the woman in front of him, the firm round bottom, the slim waist and the toned arms that were lifted over her head. And, of course, the curve of her breast that he saw in profile…

It was impossible _not_ to ogle, and in an attempt to come back to his senses, he squeezed his eyes shut – it was all because she had surprised him so he had woken up abruptly. He had had such a nice dream – admittedly, she had played a part in it, but that didn't signify, did it? - and he was still a bit sleepy now, he thought a little defiantly.

And somehow, it irked him that she referred to this place as his 'new monastic cell'… he had never claimed he was a monk, or a saint, for that matter… and he didn't really want to be either, to be honest.

While he was still trying to figure out why he was so befuddled and what he was actually feeling, Camille had finished her work and made ready to get off the chair.

Elvis, however, determined to be where the action was, had approached the chair without her – or Richard – noticing, and so she almost tripped over him when she climbed down. She noticed just in the nick of time, tried to adjust her movements accordingly, but lost her balance and gave a startled noise – and Richard – who had just opened his eyes again – saw her falling in slow motion. With two big steps, he was there to catch her while Elvis weaseled out of the scenario, with strangely slinky movements that nobody would have expected of a plump little dog like him.

Camille fell hard against him, the two of them swayed a little, and Richard's arms were tightening around her body as he tried to regain his balance. "Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly, and Camille nodded and responded with a little gasp "I think so, yes… thank you…"

Neither of them moved, though, and in a flash, Camille realised that this was precisely what she had wanted for so long… she was exactly where she had longed to be all the time… and she suddenly _knew_ …

It all made sense now - she wanted him – lock, stock and barrel! - and all he had to give…

Sod _friendship_! Sod _'taking it slowly'._ And sod _'thinking about one's feelings'_ …

His face was very close, his eyes were dark and soft… the way he was holding her felt _very_ promising… She remembered how his skin had felt under her fingertips, and her heart skipped a beat.

He couldn't be that dense… now he'd surely…

But no…

For a moment, he didn't show the slightest inclination to let her go, but then his grip loosened a little, and she felt that he'd release her in a second.

Determined not to let this chance go by, she moved to close the gap…

She whispered "Richard…"

Their eyes locked again for a moment… then he looked away.

Richard began to mumble something incoherent about propriety and decorum, and Camille almost screamed with frustration as she felt him moving away from her.

But then Richard felt a sudden, unexpected shove from behind, like something was being pushed into his legs. The hard punch made him lose his balance again, his knees gave way, and instinctively, he clung to Camille for purchase. She faltered, though, and together, they fell on the bed. Instinctively, Camille had lowered her head and pressed her face in the crook of his neck during their fall, and Richard had firmly pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her to protect her.

They lay there together, both breathing heavily, and as he tried to catch his breath, Richard felt something snap inside. He hadn't only _physically_ lost balance, as it suddenly seemed to him!

He had been able to control himself when she had fallen down from the chair, but now that her smooth body was pressed firmly against him and he felt the soft puffs of her breath on his neck, he couldn't keep his cool any more.

And it all fell into place somehow…

He had always said that he didn't 'do' change, and he had believed it - but it _was_ time for a change in his life: He realised that he was more than tired of living a quasi-monastic and celibate life. He wanted a companion, a partner, a friend… and yes, _he also wanted a lover_ … all in one… and there was only one person who could be all that for him.

In one word, he wanted _Camille_. Completely, absolutely, totally… as a whole.

Before his brain had processed and formulated what exactly this meant, his body had communicated his most urgent, immediate and pressing wishes very clearly. His arms tightened around her again, and one of his hands began to wander over her back, to her waist, over her bottom… and his voice was hoarse when he whispered "Camille… oh Camille… _please_ …"

He wasn't even aware of what he was saying, but he felt her breath on his face when she responded softly and earnestly " _Mais_ _oui, bien sûr, mon chou…_ "

Her voice was barely audible... but the physical response to his actions was more than clear and quite forthright – and he felt a sudden wave of intense arousal washing over him.

Pressing herself against him, she added – still in a low voice (but definitely in a more lascivious tone now – and with a very French accent!) - "You know what, you told me the truth… when you talked about your body parts being _all_ in the right places… considering what I can _feel_ right now clearly indicates that you haven't exaggerated…" – and before he could say something, she moved to face him, her hands suddenly were in his hair – and as one of her long legs was winding around his body, he found himself participating in a breathtaking, passionate, all-consuming kiss.

He suddenly understood that this was precisely what he had wanted to happen all the time – but he hadn't known until now. He couldn't think any more, but somehow that didn't seem to matter – long forgotten and sorely denied instincts set in automatically, and it felt entirely right to give his brain a break and let his hands and mouth take over…

Camille didn't complain – quite the opposite, actually, judging from the encouraging sounds she made when his hands slowly moved under her top and touched her bare skin! - so she seemed to feel the same way!

Lost in each other, neither of them noticed Elvis scurrying out of the room…

* * *

Elvis pricked his ears as it got all quiet in the bedroom, but he wasn't alarmed for long as soon he heard all sorts of little noises emerging from the room – sighs, moans, little squeaks of surprise, fragments of words… and all of them sounded happy. Some even sounded _ecstatic_ …

He was quite proud of himself as he was sure that these two would never have got their act together if he hadn't given them a push – literally. It had taken them way too long to get together, as far as he could see it. He, of course, had _always_ known that they were a perfect match. Humans could be so dumb…

Since he was confident that the couple in the bedroom would be totally wrapped up in one another for a while, he lay down on his bed near the French windows and put his head on his paws.

He might not get taken for walkies tonight, he knew that – but he didn't mind. The door was open, and he could always go outside if he felt the need to do so. He knew for sure that there would be more walks with Richard – and Camille – in the future…

With a little grunt, he got more comfortable on his cushion – he had done his stint for today, so could take a little nap now – or maybe even a longer one, come to think about it… These two next door would keep themselves busy for a while, he reckoned.

He was at home, and he had all the time in the world now.

Today marked a new beginning for them – as a _family_.


End file.
